In Blood Is Our Legacy
by rhinosgirl
Summary: Things are finally returning to normal for the Reagan family. Jamie is back on the job, and Danny is working to repair their relationship. But someone doesn't like that idea at all, and Jamie has to make a choice - family or foe? Set after "Jamie Takes A Holiday." Will also use characters from CSI:NY
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Anything remotely recognizable belongs to Someone Else. Everything else belongs to me.  
**

She stood up and stretched, blinking the acrid fumes and salty moisture from her eyes. For the fifth time, she measured the liquid. The proportions had to be just right if this was to work. Standing up, she cracked her shoulder and arm joints and sat back down again, this time focusing on untwisting just enough of the cord in front of her to be effective.

"That's it, easy now. You're doing good. You're such a good friend to him. You're doing so well." At the words, she beamed in pride. But her smile turned into a scowl at the warning that followed. "Go easy now. You just want him to suffer as he suffered, to suffer as he wanted him to suffer. Just like him, no physical injuries so nobody can see his suffering. That's what you want."

Oh, how she hated people patronising her. Before she lost her temper and said something she would regret, she decided to do a spot of housework. Readjusting her rolled up sleeves, she went to the cleaning cupboard and pulled out the vacuum cleaner. She plugged it in and turned it on. As always, the gentle hum of the machine relaxed her. Today, she thought. Today is the day I start extricating him from his doom. She'd deliberately chosen today because both of them were rostered off, so he would be easy to find.

Within a short time she had gathered all the debris she needed. Returning to her project, she emptied the vacuum cleaner bag into a shallow bin. Sifting through it, she picked out all the pieces of household rubbish she felt she could use. She packed them into a modified plastic container. When she was satisfied with the weight of it, she packed the rag around it. She placed the whole thing inside a small metal rectangular case. She added a couple of extra items. Just for safety's sake, she thought. Picking up the package, she realised she was unsure of the shape of it. It felt like it would quite unwieldy and maybe wouldn't be the best for accuracy. Accuracy was vital. She'd have only one shot at this when she decided the time was right to attack her victim. She picked at the casing as she thought. Finally she discarded the metal box in favour of a glass cylinder. That would cause even more carnage, she thought with glee. She put the plastic container into it and filled the gaps with strips of rag that had been intertwined with the cord she'd unravelled the end of. She filled the bottle with the liquid and taped it up leaving only enough space for the end of the cord to hang out. Finally, she tested out a cigarette lighter. It worked so she taped it in a position where the flame would ignite the cord.

Upon close inspection, she was satisfied that it would work as planned; injurious but not fatal. She went over her strategy point by point, and decided she was ready to begin. She nodded and muttered, "He won't know where to turn or who to trust. He'll be isolated and alone, just as you were. I will show him his wrong and afterwards you will be free of him."

BB - BB - BB

Jamie Reagan sat alone in his apartment, staring at his kitchen table while toying with his breakfast and pretending to sip his coffee. I'm not looking forward to today's shift at all, he thought. Tiredly, he stood up and dumped his cup and bowl, both still almost full, into the sink.

The Psycho Paper Incident had happened more than a month before. He had been both physically and psychologically cleared to come back to work by an independent medical team, and had been found to be not guilty of any professional misconduct by the Internal Affairs Bureau, yet he still sensed an underlying feeling of mistrust and unease flowing from his fellow officers towards him.

I can count the number of friends I've got down at the Precinct right now on the fingers of one hand. Edie, Mason, Renzulli, Erik, Troy, Julian, he counted under his breath. Okay, two hands, but only just. I wonder who's going to be saddled with me today? Whoever it is, it's going to be one really long day. Thank goodness it's Friday and I've got the weekend off. That's a cause for celebration, I suppose.

Suddenly his face brightened. A celebration! That's just what I need to cheer me up. And if it shows everyone that I've moved on, maybe things will start getting back to normal. Finally.

Leaning against the kitchen bench, he pulled his cell phone out of his jeans pocket and dialled.

"Hey, Danny. How's it going?"

"Really? You called just to check up on me? How nice of you!"

"I know. I can't help it, I was born that way."

"Very funny," Danny said sarcastically.

"I know. I can't help it, I was born that way," Jamie repeated. "Anyway - it's your day off, right?"

"Yeah," Danny confirmed glumly.

"They wouldn't let you swap it so you could go to Sean's shindig, huh?" Jamie said sympathetically.

"So?" Danny snapped.

Jamie bit back a sharp retort. This is supposed to be a celebration and a public display of us moving on from what happened, he reminded himself. "Got any plans for lunch?"

"Well, I was thinking of having fish and chips in New Zealand."

Jamie laughed. "Think you can put it off long enough for a pub meal with your favourite brother?"

"I wasn't aware there were any pubs in the cemetery," Danny quipped.

Jamie snorted. "Ha ha. So, do you want to meet up for lunch or not? I'm paying."

"Are you sure you want to be seen with me? I'm pretty sure that around your Precinct, I'm still seen as not much better than the dirt on your shoe."

"Hey, I don't have any dirt on my shoes," Jamie protested. "So, what do you say?"

"Sure, why not?" Jamie could hear the shrug in his brother's voice. "Just let me know where and when, and I'll be there."

"Okay. I'll text you, so plug your phone in." Jamie refilled his bowl and cup, and hummed as he carried them to the table. A good breakfast was suddenly very desirable. Now that he knew he'd be seeing at least one friendly face in his day, was feeling considerably more cheerful and celebratory.

Danny's mood, however, didn't match Jamie's at all. In fact, even as he put away the phone he let out a groan. On the one hand he was going out to lunch with his baby brother, and he always enjoyed that – especially on his days off. The opportunities for brotherly teasing were just that much more abundant when Jamie was working and he wasn't. And he was getting a free lunch and drinks to boot. Bonus!

On the other hand, he should really stay home. There was so much he should be doing – mowing the lawns, repairing a couple of broken door knobs, and other minor house repairs were at the top of his priority list according to his wife Linda. Not only that, he was beginning to think he was starting to seriously lose his marbles.

The day before yesterday, he'd found his car one space to the left from where he would've sworn on his life that he'd parked it. A few days before that, he'd been forced to use his credit card – a luxury his family could definitely not afford – when he found that he only had four dollars in his wallet, not five. He'd put a twenty dollar bill in his wallet before he left home that morning and, for once in his life, he'd kept a meticulous record of his day's spending. Yet he still came up short. Then last week his coffee cup had teleported from one side of his desk to the other and his pens had done the same. Those three incidents, and more, had taken place at work. Now it was affecting his home life, too.

First of all, he'd written down the wrong date for his son Sean's end of year assembly, or "shindig" as Jamie had flippantly labelled it, and was going to be stuck working a late shift while Sean was receiving a top academic award, his last at this school. Danny still hadn't given up hope of being there, but the odds were looking slimmer by the day. Yesterday morning, he'd found his work car unlocked, something he'd never do, considering the area he lived in and the family he belonged to. It was just too risky. Just now, he'd found his lawnmower out of gas even though he had the receipt to prove he'd filled it up after the last time he'd mown his lawn.

He shook his head. He'd do what repairs he could before Jamie summoned him away. The rest could wait. A beer and a game of darts might be exactly what he needed.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Humungous thanks to everyone who read, reviewed, followed and or favourited my story! –hugs-**

Jamie wrinkled his nose at the sight before him. He had absolutely no idea why the pub was so popular with anyone, let alone New York's Finest. And who called their business the "Shiny Penguin" anyway? There was nothing either shiny or penguinish about it. On the contrary, the canopy over the porch was nothing more than a piece of forest green canvas with scalloped edges, edged in a bright red blanket stitch, and held up on the two outer edges by rusted metal poles that were no more than a half an inch in diameter. The four wooden stairs were so rickety that on his last visit they had creaked and wobbled each time Jamie put his weight on them. He was in half a mind to bypass them altogether and just hoist himself straight up on to the chest-high verandah. Not that that was any safer since it was made of polished metal. The metal was painted yellow and then roughed up to give it a supposedly nonslip finish, but unfortunately, "roughed up" also meant "splintered and flaky". In for a penny, in for a pound, he thought as he tentatively put his weight on each step and breathed a prayer of thankfulness as, one by one, they all held. A few more steps and he entered his sanctuary.

"For a few minutes, at least, anyway," he muttered under his breath.

"What's that, Reagan? Talking to yourself, huh? You know what that's a sign of, don't you?"

Jamie dragged his cap of his head and scrunched it between his hands. Brent Drake had been a thorn in his side all morning. He'd been one of three cops who had refused their superior's orders to ride with Officer Reagan, citing "prior commitments." But only Brent had left a note taped to the front of Jamie's locker that called into question Jamie's character, "accidentally" spilled coffee over Jamie's computer keyboard, and surreptitiously bumped into Jamie whenever their paths crossed.

"Brent Drake's a moron!" This time he spoke aloud, wishing only to bolster his own flagging spirits and not caring who heard him. But from the vengeful look on the face of his nemesis and the chuckles of the other patrons, he had been overheard and he took secret delight in that fact.

He looked around for a table. After the morning he'd had he really wasn't in the mood for sharing a table and he didn't want to sit at the bar making inane small talk while he was waiting for Danny. He moved wearily toward the back of the bar where he could see a scattering of empty tables. He briefly considered having a stiff drink, preferably beer, but quickly chastised himself for even thinking about it when he was on duty. As he threaded his way through the crowd he caught the eye of a waitress and ordered a side of fries and an extra strong coffee. That'll do until Danny gets here, he sternly told his rumbling stomach.

Snagging a spare table with two seats, he sunk down into a chair and threw his cap onto the table. It wasn't long until the waitress brought him his order. Instantly, the aroma gave him energy. He started to actually take notice of his surroundings and realised that he couldn't see anything shiny or penguinish about the interior, either. Every surface was hard wood, cracked leather and dull plastic and every item was brightly coloured in all colours of the rainbow. No black, white, or glint anywhere.

He smiled and waved to some cops he recognised from other precincts, and spoke to others he recognised from his own precinct. No need to stoop to the level of his accusers. The least he could do to keep his dignity was to keep his courtesy.

He looked over to the non-regulation red and blue dart boards and silently urged Danny to hurry up and get here, already. He'd enjoy beating his older brother. It would be the perfect end to a crappy morning. He munched on a fry and salivated over how hungry he suddenly was. Closing his eyes, he found himself humming along with the radio to a song he barely knew and felt himself drifting off to sleep as he let the cacophony of the lunchtime rush relax him.

BB—BB-BB

Before she left, she took the precaution of ringing up her contact at the NYPD to ensure her victim hadn't been called into work unexpectedly. He hadn't. Then it was simply a matter of parking her car within sight of his house and settling in to monitor his movements for as long as it took.

"Come on, what is keeping you? You've got a day off! Surely you're not going to waste it sleeping all day?"

As if he'd heard her frustrated entreaty, he finally appeared in her sight. She watched him get into a car and drive away. As soon as it was three car lengths ahead of her, she pulled out and started driving. Without a partner it was difficult to keep an eye on both the traffic and potential hazards, and also on one particular car that kept disappearing from her view. After fifteen minutes her task became easier as her prey headed to a less populated part of town and the traffic thinned out considerably.

"Crap! He's going to see me. Think, girl, think!" she urged herself.

She sighed and relaxed when they reached an intersection and she realised she knew exactly where he was headed. To avoid detection she turned left instead of going straight through the traffic lights but two right turns later, she spotted her mark.

"Stupid man," she gloated. "Abandoning his car and walking alone. He's just asking for trouble."

She grabbed the package out of the cup holder beside her and looked up. He was standing on the side of the road and looking around. Realising that he was waiting for someone and wanting to avoid witnesses, she took a chance. Using her free hand she flicked the lighter, lit the wick, and extended her arm out the open window and over the roof of her car.

Unbeknownst to Danny, his thoughts as he walked up the street echoed his younger brothers. Why on earth was this place so popular? And how on earth did it come to be called the "Shiny Penguin" anyway?

He shook his head, thinking that he must be tireder than he thought to be pondering such nonsense. Focus! He commanded himself. You deserve this break after the morning you've had. Even Linda's going to need to admit to being impressed that you've knocked four things off the "To Do" list.

He grinned, and the grin just grew bigger and bigger as he imagined the ways that Linda could reward him for his hard work. So engrossed in his thoughts was he that he almost walked past his destination.

Realising his mistake, he walked backwards a few steps until he was level with the bar entrance. He stopped and looked around. He's not here yet, he thought irritably. Well, he'd better hurry up, I'm starving! He looked around again. He could hear the babble of voices from inside the bar, and smell the steak and chips calling to him. But he couldn't see his little brother's car anywhere. He probably just got stuck at work, Danny thought as he pulled out his phone.

"Hey Jamie . . . I can't see you here . . ."

A blinding flash of light flew past Danny's left ear and exploded into a million sharp stings. In the nanosecond of consciousness that followed, he saw every pattern imaginable and many that weren't, and every colour that was in the rainbow and many that weren't. He never even had a chance to scream before he blacked out.

No surface was immune from being nicked, pierced, or torn to shreds as the shards of glass, wood, and metal, some invisible to the naked eye and some nearly the size of a large rat, glinted and glowed in the bright sunlight as they defied gravity and cannoned away, only stopping when they met an unmoving object and were forced to embed themselves deep within its structure.

And Danny's phone was ruined.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Apologies for taking so long to update. When I reread this chapter, I realised it was a mess! It was full of repetitions, contradictions, and illogical thinking. Hence, a complete rewrite –sad face-

The force of the blast propelled Jamie forward. His head knocked against the table, jostling his plate of food, spilling his drink, and startling him awake.

"What on earth was that!?" he yelped, standing up and looking down at his now coffee-stained jeans. Thank goodness it wasn't boiling hot, he thought absentmindedly. Turning around confirmed what he instinctively knew. An explosion! But what and why? Then Jamie became aware of the chaos around him. Choking smoke floated from the front of the bar out onto the street and back past where he was sitting. People were screaming, coughing, calling out for those they couldn't see. Jamie knew he had to act fast before the fire spread.

Relegating his detective instincts to the back of his mind, Jamie focused instead on his "beat cop" and "first aid" training.

Keeping low, he moved to the table next to him. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yes," came the reply. "But she isn't." The man pointed.

"Do you have any medical training?"

"No," the man replied.

"Okay," Jamie said. "There's an exit door over there." He pointed to the back of the pub. "I need you to get it open and start marshaling people outside. Can you do that for me?"

"Sure." The man got up and moved away and Jamie ran over to the injured woman.

"Are you hurt?" he asked.

"What in heaven's name was that?" she exclaimed.

"I'm not entirely sure. I'm sure the police will be on scene shortly. Right now we've got to start evacuating people. Are you hurt?" Jamie repeated.

"I hit my hand on the bottom of the table and bent my wrist back at a funny angle," she reported. "I don't think it's severely hurt though. What I think is a more major problem is that man over there, he looks like he's having a heart attack. Why don't you go and help him? I can make my own way out."

"Ok." Jamie directed her to the back exit then jumped up and ran to the next guy. Sure enough, he did seem to be having a heart attack. "Sir," Jamie said calmly. "I'm a police officer. Can you tell me where it hurts?"

"Who are you?" demanded his female companion in a thick accent Jamie could barely understand.

"I'm Officer Jamie Reagan, but I've had medical training." He returned his attention to the ailing man. "Where are you hurt?"

"Here." The wheezing man indicated a spot in the middle of his ribcage. Jamie didn't like how the man's voice or breathing was sounding, he just wasn't sure whether it was because of the smoke or something else. He decided not to take any chances.

"Let's go this this way," he directed. "Keep as low as you can." Crouching down, he and the woman supported the man as they moved slowly in the direction of the back door until they met the original man and woman that Jamie had talked to coming towards them.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"It's locked," they said simultaneously. "We can't get out."

By now the smoke was getting extremely thick around them. Jamie's eyes were smarting, and he could hear people coughing and wheezing.

"I'll sort it," he assured them. "Can you?" He indicated the man at his side.

"Sure." The man quickly took Jamie's place and the woman ranged around the ailing man, ready at a second's notice should he collapse. Jamie led the group as they groped their way through the darkness. Just as they reached their destination, the man finally collapsed into unconsciousness. Jamie pulled his wallet out his pocket, opened it, and pulled out one of his credit cards. He quickly folded his credit card in half. "Is he breathing?" he asked.

"Yes," the man's companion told him.

"Okay." Jamie jiggled the card back and forth a few times in the door and finally the lock came free. I'll have to remember to cancel that card, he told himself. It's useless, I haven't used it in months, and the annual fee is almost due. I'm not paying for something I won't ever use again!

He pushed the door hard with his shoulder but it didn't move. "Everybody stand back," he ordered. He took a few steps back so he could gain some momentum, than ran at the door with his shoulder again. The wood splintered. I wish this was glass, he complained to himself. At least then we'd be through. He refused to think about what state he would be in though. Instead he took two more runs at the door.

"Here, let me help."

Even with the woman's injured wrist, it was only a matter of minutes before the door was leaning crazily on its hinges. Jamie chocked it with a brick to make sure it wouldn't jam shut again and went back to help the others who were propping up the unconscious man. Once clear of the building they set him down.

"I can watch him," the man's companion snapped. "You go and find a paramedic."

Jamie looked around. There were people wandering around, talking on phones and screaming for people they couldn't find. But as far he could tell they were all civilians. "I don't think the emergency services are here yet. Do you have any actual medical training?"

"Of course I do," she assured him. "He is breathing and his heartbeat is strong. My guess is that he is suffering a panic attack. They can be just as serious as a heart attack though, so the sooner he gets checked by a paramedic the better."

Something in Jamie's mind wasn't at ease with the situation. Unfortunately he needed to help rescue the people who were still trapped inside the smoking structure before it caught fire. He was just about to agree to the woman's plan, when a man in full paramedic uniform came around the corner. Thank God, Jamie thought. He didn't quite know whether it was a prayer or not. He went with prayer.

"Hi, I'm Henry," he introduced himself as he knelt beside the patient. ""What've we got here?"

"Jamie Reagan, NYPD. Unconscious male with compromised breathing who was complaining of chest pains before he collapsed. Then we've got this woman, who possibly has a broken wrist and a sprained ankle. Where are the rest of the emergency services?"

"As far I know they haven't arrived. I was here on my lunch break with two others," Henry informed him. "I've alerted Headquarters to the situation. They'll have reinforcements here as soon as possible. Would you like me to find out their ETA for you?"

"No. They'll already be coming as quick as they can," Jamie told him. "There's no need to stress them further."

The paramedic nodded and knelt down to tend to the injured man while continuing to talk to Jamie. "Is there anyone left inside? We may have to move if the other exits are blocked. This might be the only safe way to get people out."

Jamie nodded. "There are still people inside. So if I'm not needed here, I'll get back to where I am."

Henry nodded. "Okay, let's move the patients before they get trampled." He turned to the injured woman. "Can you walk, so we can help him?"

She nodded and leant heavily on Jamie as she stood and regained her balance. Finally, she nodded and Jamie helped Henry lift the now semi-conscious man to his feet. Slowly the sextet moved out of the path of the stream of people stumbling, or in some cases falling, out of the damaged building.

As they made the patients comfortable on the nearby grass, Jamie was relieved to hear sirens pulling up to the scene. Henry lifted his head. He spoke softly into his headset then smiled at Jamie. "We've got this."

As Jamie moved away, he heard Henry ask the injured man's companion for the name of the patient. He listened carefully for her answer.

"His name is Alistair Bukman, and I'm his sister Trixie."

Jamie filed that away as he weaved his way through the crowd. He stopped every so often to reassure people things seemed to be under control, but he made sure he kept moving as quickly as possible.

I wish I had some water to soak these in, he thought as he stripped to the waist and tied his shirt around his face. He took a deep, calming breath and disappeared back into the pub.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Thanks to **jlmayer** for reviewing the last chapter. I promise you will find out how Danny is doing. Just not in this chapter. Possibly not even in the next – I'm not sure yet. But **please** bear with me. It will happen!

 **Guest:** I'm definitely going to finish this story.

Frank Reagan smiled over his coffee as his daughter Erin Reagan-Boyle approached. It wasn't often that the two of them were able to get together for lunch, since their schedules clashed on more days of the week than they gelled. "I hope you're hungry," he said as he stood up to greet her with their customary kiss on the cheek.

"Starving," agreed Erin. The Pear and Kiwi served food influenced by both the Pakeha and Maori cuisines of New Zealand, and she had been looking forward to eating there for quite a while. She poured a glass of water then picked up a menu. "See anything that looks good?"

Frank nodded. "Trust me?"

"Always." Erin grinned and nodded.

Frank beckoned the waiter over and ordered for the both of them. After their food arrived, they visited briefly before getting to the real reason for their meeting: Nutting out a strategy to deal with Nicky's imminent departure to college. Suddenly, Frank's phone rang in his jacket pocket. Pulling it out and glancing at it, he said, "I'm sorry, I have to take this."

"It's okay, I'm finished anyway," Erin said. "I'll see you later." She picked up her belongings and kissed her father on the cheek. As she left she heard her father say 'Reagan."

She didn't stop. Her father was always getting his schedule changed by unexpected situations. It was that way since her childhood and would probably still be that way when she was a grandmother herself.

"I'm on my way," Frank said.

It wasn't so much the sudden pronouncement that made Erin pause and turn toward him, but rather the tone in which her father said it.

"Anything I can do?" she asked quietly, a split second before Frank bumped into her.

"Huh?" Frank's head snapped up, his nose almost colliding with Erin's forehead. "Uh, no. Just a work problem. I'll see you later."

He hurried out to the sidewalk. The car was already waiting for him with the door open and the engine running and sped off as soon as Frank was safely inside.

"Back to base," Frank ordered as he pulled out his mobile phone. "Damn!"

"Problem, sir?"

"No." Frank answered absentmindedly as he rang another number.

The remainder of the ride to One Police Plaza was silent and tense. When they arrived, Frank hurried into the Press Room. "What do we know?" he demanded even before the door slammed shut behind him.

"Not much," Dino Arbogast, the New York Police Department's chief of Departments, spoke up before anyone else could. "Details are sketchy. A small explosion at The Shiny Penguin, a well-known cop bar. It's in a side street in a less popular part of town, so there aren't many civilian casualties, but it was crammed full of cops on their lunch break. Early unsubstantiated reports say there are multiple people trapped underneath fallen debris. The New York Crime Lab are willing to take point on the investigation because of the unknown number of police injured and the wide number of precincts involved."

"I think that'd be a good idea," Frank agreed as he seated himself at the head of the table. "As long as we're kept up to speed with the investigation as well."

"Done," an anonymous voice from Frank's left volunteered. "Mac Taylor will give this office daily updates as the investigation unfolds, more often when he deems it necessary. He only asks that we take charge of all press coverage so he and his team can catch this person as soon as possible. People who deliberately target the police aren't well liked down there."

"Tell Detective Taylor I agree to his terms," Frank said. "So. We don't know anything definitive about casualties, perpetrators, or motives. So, what do we know?"

Across town, Detective Mac Taylor was asking himself the same question. He hated working blind, and right now he felt blind than blind.

"Okay, everyone!" He raised his voice to catch everyone's attention. "There's been an explosion in the Shiny Penguin bar downtown."

"Isn't that a cop bar?" Detective Don Flack's words were barely intelligible through a mouthful of roast beef, cheese, and pickle sandwich. "Are they thinking the target was a particular cop, or just cops in general?"

"Well, since it's open to the public as well, nobody's making any assumptions," Mac ignored his subordinate's overt rudeness. "Either way, this is a Priority One callout, so all available personnel will come with us. We should be relatively free to work the scene since the inside should be mostly been cleared of victims by the time we get there."

"So in other words some of us are going to be wasting time chasing down potential victims and witnesses all over the city," Detective Danny Messer muttered.

"No, the police are taking care of that. If need be, we can do more of it tomorrow," said Mac. "But for today we're totally on scene. No going anywhere else unless there's an emergency. You have a problem with that?"

"No?" said Danny meekly. He brought the conversation back to the subject at hand. "Road blocks?"

"Yes," Mac confirmed. "Road blocks have been set up within a three block perimeter of the pub with police guards. Nobody'll get in or out unauthorised."

Mac and Don grabbed the keys for the two fastest vehicles in the Crime Lab's fleet while everyone else grabbed their gear, and then everyone took the elevators down to the car park.

"I call shotgun!" Danny Messer grabbed the handle of the passenger side of the vehicle closest to him.

"Oh, good," Don crowed. "I get to boss you around."

Danny's jaw dropped. "Great. Is there any chance I can change my mind?" he implored Mac.

"Into what?" Don teased. "A cabbage? It'd be an improvement."

"Okay, funny boys. Let's get going." Jo Danville had climbed into the back of the vehicle and firmly shut her door. Grinning, Don and Danny took their seats in the front. Meanwhile Mac, Medical Examiner Sheldon Hawkes, Detective Lindsay Monroe Messer, and Lab Technician Adam Ross piled into the other vehicle and led the convoy off.

The journey was relatively normal until they got close to their destination. Then they saw thick smoke drifting up into the rapidly darkening sky, and smelt the acridness of the explosive on the slight breeze.

"Is the darkness coming from the smoke or the sky, do you think?" Don Flack asked.

"I'd guess the smoke," said Jo Danville. "It's not late enough, or cloudy enough, for it to be this dark yet."

By now they were held to a crawl by an increasing amount of rubberneckers who were in danger of causing a number of traffic accidents. So Mac made an executive decision.

"Pass me the portable siren," he directed Adam, who was seated in the front passenger seat.

Immediately the air was filled with a screaming, wailing commotion. The cars ahead of them started to slowly move forward, too slowly for Mac's liking. So he leaned on his horn as well. That made most cars either pull over or speed up as fast as they could safely go. When they were forced to slow down too much for their own liking, they added their horns to the pandemonium. At last it did the trick, and they passed the traffic jam and arrived at the road block. Mac turned off the siren and pulled up beside the guard who immediately demanded "Who are you?"

"I'm Detective Mac Taylor, New York City Crime Lab." Mac answered pleasantly, all too well aware of the stress and strain that the guard was no doubt feeling. "These are some of the members of my team. The others are in the vehicle behind us."

"Show me your badges," the guard instructed without cracking even the slightest hint of a smile.

One by one, Mac, Sheldon, Lindsay, and Adam pulled out their police badges and held them out. Once the guard had verified their identities they were waved through. Then the second vehicle pulled up and the process was repeated. Once they were through Mac waved the guard over. "Who's in charge?"

"Sergeant Sid Gormley of the 12th Precinct. You're going to have to leave the cars here and walk in," he directed.

Putting his hand out the window, Mac waved forward. Don gave a short tap on the horn to show he understood. After their vehicles were parked, the team assembled with their gear as Mac gave them their instructions. "The police chief in charge is Sergeant Gormley. I'll rendezvous with him. In the meantime, use your own discretion to help anyone you can. Communication will be by cellphone only so the radios are kept clear for the emergency services. Danny, you and Lindsay start at the front of the pub. Apparently that's where the blast happened. Jo, you and Sheldon start at the back of the building. Don, you take the side driveway area with Adam. I'm going to find Sergeant Gormley. Work as fast as you can, we want to get as much done before dark as we can since there's no power. Understood?"

Everybody nodded and went their separate ways. After speaking to various people, Mac found himself at the front of the building.

"Sergeant Gormley." He waited for an answer, but none was forthcoming, so he stepped forward. "Sergeant Gormley!"

"What?" Sergeant Gormley whirled around impatiently.

"Detective Mac Taylor, New York City Crime Lab," Mac introduced himself.

Gormley held out his hand. "Sorry. Things are absolutely crazy here. People are coming at me left, right, and centre, and most of them have problems and questions that could just as easily be solved and answered by someone else, someone who isn't as busy as me. But I've got the uniform and the cap, so I get the problems and the questions. Glad to meet you, Mac. I'm glad to have someone talking to me to solve problems, not make them."

"I've got people at the front and back of the pub as well as the side driveway area. Just point in the direction you want me to go," Mac offered.

"Sergeant Gormley!" someone yelled urgently, interrupting their duologue. "We need you here now!"

"Come with me." Gormley beckoned to Mac and they set off at a run to the far side of the pile of rubble.

"What's going on?" Gormley demanded.

"We're not sure," the speaker admitted. "But we think that there's possibly only one person trapped, and that we may know who it is."

"Who?" Gormley demanded impatiently.

"We believe it may be Detective Danny Reagan," the speaker admitted.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** Thanks to **jlmayer** and **BLBLF** for your positive reviews –hugs-

 **Guest:** I'm sorry you didn't enjoy a chapter which introduced new characters and set up future scenes and plot points. If you have any suggestions for improvement, please feel free to get yourself an account, sign in, and leave a signed review so that I can address your concerns.

"Shit!" Gormley swore, and Mac looked at him sympathetically. Having the boss' son die on your watch wasn't exactly an effective way to climb the promotion ladder. "Who are you, anyway?"

"My name's Lance. This young lady here is the one who identified the potential victim." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder.

"And who are you?" And what makes you think it's Detective Reagan?" Sergeant Gormley barked at her.

"My name is Edit Janko, Probationary Officer from Precinct Twelve." She rubbed her hands down her thighs. "Detective Reagan's car was found in the carpark of the strip mall down the road. His brother Jamie was there to meet him for lunch, but he hadn't arrived when the bomb went off."

"But Detective Reagan had? How do you know that?" Gormley stepped forward threateningly.

Standing her ground, Officer Janko shook her head. "No. Jamie had arrived. Danny hadn't."

Seeing that the situation was getting a bit tense, Mac interrupted them. "Do you know that for sure?"

"Well, I saw Jamie eating alone."

"So you really don't have anything!" Gormley gripped his belt loops. "Look, if you want to see the inside of your Precinct Building any time this side of meeting your Maker, if you ever want a promotion, period, I suggest you stop with the theories, and start trying to find hard evidence of who is actually under that pile of stuff. Actually, no. Just get out of my sight! Go direct traffic, or reunite lost children with their parents, or something. Anything that means I don't have to see your face again."

"Yes, sir." She turned to go, but stopped when Gormley spoke again.

"Do you know Officer Jamie Reagan?"

"Yes, sir."

"Don't you dare say anything if you see him. We need everyone at the top off their game today. Officer Reagan needs to be a cop first, and a brother second. He won't be able to do that if he's wasting time tracking down Detective Reagan because he's terrified his brother's stuck under a pile of rubble. Do you understand me?" Gormley demanded.

"I'm sure Officer Reagan is professional enough to do his job under any circumstance." Officer Janko defended her partner.

"You may be, but I'm not. Not only that, but I am your superior. Do you understand me?" Gormley repeated.

"Yes, sir, I do," Edie confirmed.

"Well, Officer Janko, I suggest you leave before I decide to report you to you Commanding Officer."

"Yes, sir." She practically sprinted down the driveway toward the back of the building.

Under the rubble, Danny lay listening to the raised voices with the vague suspicion that things were going rather badly. Things were still shifting around him. It was raining. His head was wet. He could not move. No, things were definitely not going well.

He was starting to think rescue would never come. It shouldn't take that long to move a couple of metal pipes, some flimsy material, and a few broken bits of wood. Well, if the rescuers wasn't going to come to him, he would have to go to them. He tried to turn his head to assess his situation, but stopped when a sharp pain sliced through his skull. It took him a second or two, but he finally realised that the dampness around him was blood, not rain. His heart began to beat a little faster and his breathing became a little strained. Even being a cop, he'd never done well with blood. Especially not blood from head wounds.

It wasn't supposed to have gone like this. Everything about this was wrong. He should've never been there in the first place. If only Jamie hadn't invited him out. If only Jamie hadn't made such a big deal out of that Psycho Paper thing. If only Jamie hadn't kept playing the victim card and continually told him how badly he was being treated at work, he wouldn't have felt sorry for the kid. He wouldn't be here, stuck under a pile of pub and bleeding to death. Yes, death. Death, the thing in all the world that he feared most was coming. He would have liked to say that he laughed in the face of Death. Instead, the face of Death was laughing at him. He squeezed his eyes closed and scrunched his body into as tight a ball as he could, praying that by some miracle he would survive the chaos to come. _I'm a Marine. I'm tougher than this. I can hold on. I will not give up._ He endlessly repeated the mantra to himself. He deliberately slowed his breathing and heart rate down. _Focus, Marine!_ he yelled at himself. Sniper breathing! Sniper breathing! It was no good. As the colours started to blur and the sounds began to fade, he wondered _Where did I go wrong?_

He woke to the din of jackhammers and engines and it terrified him. What if one of them punctured him in the stomach and he bled to death? What if he suffocated? _Sniper breathing,_ he reminded himself. He slowed his breathing down again. It was actually getting easier to do. Every time he breathed in, he inhaled all manner of unidentifiable grit, which not only slowed his breathing, but shallowed it as well. He stiffened as the debris surrounding him shifted. Then Danny became aware of voices and realised that the machinery had stopped. He heard the words "unstable" and "risky" and "wounded". They're giving up on me, he thought. _For once in my life I hope I'm hallucinating and those voices are just in my head. Just as my senses are starting to work again, they're giving up on me._ Then he heard the words "alive" and "keep going", and he breathed a sigh of relief. Not only was he not hallucinating, the machines had started up again. The ground around him shook.

He tried to move his hands to shield his face, or better yet, dig his way out of this hellhole, but he didn't have enough room to let his hands pick up the pieces, let alone the knowhow to put them all out of the way safely, even if he could reach them.

Pieces of gravelly and sharp and wet and yucky things burrowed into his skin as if they too were seeking refuge from the carnage they were a part of. Danny tried to cough to clear his throat, which was starting to feel seriously obstructed. All that did was make him feel worse, so he stopped. _Think,_ he ordered himself. _You were in lots of jams like this in Iraq, so you know what to do. You just have to do it._ He wriggled, trying to loosen whatever it was that was pinning him down. Then his head exploded and he blacked out again.

Back on the surface, the rescuers were reassessing the stability of what had been the front of the building only hours before. Concrete, wood, cloth, and other unidentifiable bits and pieces littered the pavement. Bits of tables, chairs, purses, and phones were testament to the activities that had been going on when disaster struck. Liquids of all colours melded into a brown river that trickled onto the boots of the men and women who carefully dismantling the pile, hoping to reach the survivors in the mess while they were still alive. But the liquid made the dust very slippery and turned it to mud, further jeopardising the operation. Resuming work at the fastest pace they could, which was slightly faster than a snail but not quite as fast as a sloth, the rescuers prayed that whoever it was that was trapped, they were still alive.

He was. Danny came around and once again tried to move, but quickly aborted the attempt. It felt like his head was being sliced in two. He tried to concentrate on the pinprick of light he could see above him. He sincerely hoped it was the sky, and not the dreaded white light that was traditionally the start of the road to death. _I'm not ready to go there,_ Danny prayed. I want to stay here and see my boys grow up.

In the brief moment before the pain overwhelmed his conscious thought once more, he remembered lying there, feeling joints lying bent at impossible angles, and thinking that it was odd that no one had ever mentioned that you could actually hear bones snap. He just didn't know which bones.

If Danny had managed to stay awake for one more nanosecond, he would have heard a sudden shout and he would have known that his ordeal was finally ending.

"There's a hand!"

A paramedic was quickly on the scene. Leaving all her equipment with a colleague, she carefully crept her way towards the rescue worker who was making a hole around his find. She stopped often, taking care not to disrupt the wreckage and rain rubble down on the victim. She finally reached the hand and squatted down. Fearfully, she grasped it, uncertain of what she'd find. She prayed fervently she wouldn't be the one that had to pronounce one of New York's finest dead. It was an honour she'd avoided so far, and she hoped she could avoid it for a lot longer yet.

"He's alive! Everybody be quiet!" She moved to her knees and called down into the void. "Hello! Can anyone hear me?" After a few seconds she repeated her plea. Getting no answer, she concluded that the man was unconscious. She climbed off to the side of the site, cautioning those around her to be vigilant since unconscious people could be very unpredictable.

Work had temporarily ceased while she assessed the patient, but now it resumed with renewed vigour. All the large machines and all non-essential personnel were banished from the site, leaving only hands and trowels to continue the painstaking work.

Ten minutes later, Brad Sidley, the rescue worker who had made the initial discovery, swore loudly.

"Do we need the paramedic?"

"Worse. We need to tell Sergeant Gormley one of his best men is going to be out of action for a while."

"So it is Reagan, then?"

Brad nodded as he waved the paramedic over. "Flip you for the honour."

"Nah. I'll do it. You stay here, keep playing the hero." Nigel Gupfert grinned as he disappeared behind the paramedic.

Just as the paramedic knelt down beside the half uncovered body, Danny groaned.

"Good." The paramedic swiftly checked Danny's vitals. "I'm Zelda. I'm a paramedic. Can you tell me your name?" She continued to engage him in conversation to assess Danny's level of consciousness as she established an IV line in his arm. "Okay, Danny. I've hooked you up to a bag of saline to combat dehydration, but I want to wait until I can assess your head wound a little better before I give you a painkiller. We should have you completely out soon."

"Me?" Danny's voice was slurred and hoarse.

Zelda rechecked his eyes for increased pressure on the optic nerve, a sign of swelling on the brain. Seeing nothing untoward, she began to repeat her assurances.

"Me?" Danny' repeated insistently, breaking into her explanation.

"Jamie's okay." Brad put his hand on Danny's shoulder. "He's fine."

For the first time that afternoon, Danny relaxed.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** You guys are wonderful, with all your reviews, favourites, and follows. I love checking my emails and seeing what's there. My inbox is far, far more interesting now that the spam I usually get is outnumbered by your messages of support –lotsa hugs-

XXXXX

"Hey, whoa!"

Reflexively, Officer Janko jumped back as a voice startled her out of her hurried attempt at escaping from the embarrassment of her encounter with Sergeant Gormley. "Sorry."

"No worries. I just didn't want you getting hurt, that's all. I'm Adam Ross of the New York City Crime Lab."

Officer Janko smiled. "Edit Janko, Probationary Officer in the New York City Police Force."

"Nice to meet you, Edit." Adam pronounced it EE-dit.

"Call me Eddie. And it was nice to meet you too, Adam. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've just been demoted to traffic warden." Eddie screwed her nose up.

"Actually, I like Edit," Adam grinned. "And you're going the wrong way if you want to find traffic."

"Carpark." Eddie motioned to the back of the building.

"Oh. Well, I'm supposed to be meeting my team somewhere down this driveway." Adam rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't know my way around here yet, so do you mind if I stick close to you until I find them? The roadblocks by where we parked were extended out three blocks shortly after we arrived, which meant that I had to go and move our cars out of the restricted zone. So I've just got here."

"Sure, come on." Eddie weaved through the crowd, pushing Adam ahead of her. "So what do you do?" Eddie raised her voice so Adam could hear her over the din that was still emanating from behind them.

"Eat, sleep, breathe, poop, pee, fart and burp," Adam said seriously.

"No wonder you're so bad at your job," Don answered him, coming up beside them. "You're supposed to be investigating, not chatting up the ladies."

"You're just jealous I found her first," Adam replied. "Edit, meet one of my most annoying co-workers, Don Flack."

"And definitely the most handsome," Don replied. "Nice to meet you, Edit." He pronounced it ED-it. Adam couldn't decide whether Don had misheard his pronunciation or was simply ignoring it. He decided to be magnanimous and believe the first option.

"Nice to meet you too, Don," Eddie greeted him. "Please call me Eddie."

"Eddie it is," Don agreed. "Cop?"

"Yep. At least for now. Long story," she sighed. "I'm currently on lollipop duty. Pissed off the boss."

"Lollipop duty?" Don frowned.

"Traffic control," Eddie explained.

"Lucky you." Don grinned. "Adam, there's still too many people for us to work onsite, so Mac is trying to find us things to do elsewhere."

Adam turned to Eddie. "You want to help? If your boss is anything like my boss, 'go direct traffic' simply means 'get out of my sight. Which means you're a free agent and we could sure use the help."

"Thanks," said Eddie. "So, who's Mac, and what are we likely to end up doing?"

"Mac's our boss and pavements and grass verges?" Adam ventured.

"Good idea," agreed Don. "I'll just ring Mac."

"To ask me what?" said a voice behind them. "Why you two are standing around talking instead of doing your jobs, maybe?"

"Actually we're brainstorming with Officer Janko," Don corrected his boss. "And I think we've come up with a great idea." He let Adam explain.

"Okay," Mac approved the plan. "Adam, you go with Officer Janko. I'll clear it with Sergeant Gormley. Don, come with me."

Adam and Eddie walked to the front of the property.

"Okay, where are we going to start?"

"Well, I heard people talking about seeing someone throwing something from a car just before the explosion. The car came from that way." Adam pointed left, then hesitated. "If it came from a car maybe the pavements and grass verges aren't as good a place to look as I thought."

"And here I thought you were an investigator." Eddie rolled her eyes.

"I never said that," Adam defended himself. "I'm just a lab rat, but they needed all hands on deck. Since I usually work in the lab and not in the field, I've never had to search for clues before."

 _Oh great_ , Eddie thought. _They've put me together with a complete rookie! Now I know how Jamie felt when he first met me._ "Searching still needs to be done because we don't know what we may find. The perp might have been here before and left something behind."

"Okay, so how?" Adam asked nervously.

"Up the left side to a certain point and then back down the right. Then we cross the road and repeat," Eddie declared. "Two sets of eyes searching together eliminates the need for double checking. Go slow and make sure you put on gloves before you touch anything."

Adam nodded and waved his arms. "Do you want to check they're on right?"

Eddie grimaced. "Not today, don't want to corrupt the evidence."

"Oh, yeah, right, sorry." Adam rubbed his top lip with his lower teeth.

"No worries. Okay, so let's go out this way, up to the first corner," Eddie signalled.

For a while, it didn't seem like they were going to have any success. Everything was surprisingly, even suspiciously, clean. Even amongst the thigh high grass there were no fast food containers, dirty nappies, or discarded pieces of clothing to be found.

"There! What's that?" Adam knelt down on the edge of the side walk and looked into the gutter. "It's a gum wrapper with a wad of ABC gum inside it."

"ABC?" Eddie squatted beside him.

"Already Been Chewed." Adam pulled a numbered plastic triangle out of the bag he had been carrying unobtrusively on his back. "I don't have a camera with me, but least this will mark the position until someone can come and deal with it."

Eddie looked around then went to the middle of the road. "Look at this. These dark marks could be tyre tracks from a stationary car." Adam handed her another triangle.

As they walked back to the sidewalk, Eddie put her hand on Adam's elbow. "Thanks for this. I really wasn't looking forward to being a lollipop lady."

"Yeah, what was that all about?" Adam scanned the area as he was talking.

Eddie filled him in on the situation with Danny, Jamie, and Sergeant Gormley. "Part of me still thinks I should be with Jamie. At least this gives me something else to focus on."

"What would he think if you were with him? Exactly!" Adam grinned as Eddie looked at him sheepishly. "Then you're absolutely better off with me. At least then he can't accuse you of trying to distract him."

"But he could still think I've lied to him by not telling him my suspicions," Eddie pointed out.

"If that happens you tell him the truth," Adam squeezed her hand. "Sergeant Gormley sent you elsewhere before you were able to find him."

Eddie laughed and threw her hands up in the air. "Blame it all on the top dog. I like it."

By this time they were nearing the corner without having found anything else. They were just about to cross to the middle of the road when Adam cut the corner and sprinted down the road.

"Adam! What are you doing? You could be contaminating evidence!" Eddie yelled. Frustrated at the rookie mistake, she ran up to the corner and then down the road to where Adam was pulling out another evidence marker.

"Or I could be finding some." Adam directed Eddie's attention to an empty pill bottle. "Thank goodness for city bylaws stating that grass near intersections needs to be kept mown. Otherwise, I'd never have seen it."

"And I thought you said you were no good at this." Eddie slapped him on the back.

With renewed vigour they returned to the pub, again finding nothing.

"Do we really have to do the other side?" Adam moaned. "If that was the perp's car, it wouldn't have been on that side of the road. We won't find anything. It'll just be a waste of our time."

"The operative word in that sentence being IF" Eddie stressed. "Let's go."

After a fruitless half hour, they returned to the Shiny Penguin and saw that the rescue had been completed.

"Stay here. I'll be back in a minute." Eddie ran over to a paramedic and had a hasty conversation before rejoining Adam. "He's alive."

Adam put his arm around her shoulder and gave her a quick hug. "That's good news. I suppose you'll be wanting to check on Jamie, too."

"Aww, don't sound so disappointed, Adam, bro." The stranger held out his hand to Eddie. "Danny Messer, Detective."

"And all-round idiot," Adam grumbled amicably.

"Nice to meet you." Eddie shook his hand and then left to go find her partner.

"I hope you guys had better luck than we did." Adam recounted his disappointing afternoon.

"Yeah, we did," Danny gloated. Mac had sent him and Lindsay to check the road in the opposite direction from Adam and Eddie. Working separately, they stopped often to check potential leads. They recorded, photographed, bagged, and tagged everything they found.

Suddenly Danny spotted something a lot more interesting than banana peels and fast food wrappers. "Montana!" he called out the nickname that only he called his wife.

"What?"

"Glass!"

Lindsay crossed the road to him. She bent down and examined the shards. "It could be a headlight or taillight," she surmised as Danny bagged and tagged it.

"Well, there's no way we can bag and tag this!"

Lindsay sighed and sauntered over. "What now?"

"See for yourself."

"Skid marks!" Lindsay bent down and touched the surface of the road. "Sticky." She smelt her fingers. "Rubber."

While his wife was busy analysing the substance, Danny took samples of the skid marks and the surrounding road surface. He then stood up and followed the marks down the road.

Lindsay followed, periodically measuring the width of the tyre treads. "The width is changing," she noted. "It sped up."

"Well, let's see where it went." Lindsay and Danny followed the skid marks until they started to veer to the right at the next road past the crime scene.

Danny looked around. "You check the bollards over there." He pointed in the same direction that the skid marks went.

"Give me the easy job, why don't you?" Lindsay muttered as she walked way.

"I heard that!" Danny called out. "And I'm doing it because I love you, that's why!"

"Yeah, right. Yadda, yadda, yadda."

Lindsay examined the smudge on the bollard in front of her. _Sure looks like paint_ , she mused. She pulled a cotton bud out of her case and swiped it through the smear, then put the whole thing in a plastic tube, carefully labelling it before securing it a plastic bag. Then she scraped some of the substance into an evidence bag. She moved on to the next bollard, repeating the process on the remaining thirteen bollards.

Finally she stood up, stretched, and walked back to the first bollard. She measured each streak of paint on each structure and realised that the first few were bigger than the rest. Returning to the beginning again, she pulled out her flashlight and shone it on post.

Sure enough, it was damaged, though not enough to be noticeable to a casual observer. She checked the next few. Finding only the first three damaged, each one a little less than the last. In fact, it was only after meticulous examination that Lindsay found the faintest of marks at the base of the third.

Having gotten as much evidence as she could, Lindsay packed up her kit and wandered over to Danny, who was examining some smears in the road.

 _If those are from the car, then there's no wonder there's paint all over the bollards,_ she thought.

"You finished?" Danny grinned at her nod. "Let's work together, we might even finish before the light gets too dim."

"With the roadblocks and cops guarding the scene, it should stay undisturbed until we return in the morning even if we do run out of light," she said hopefully.

Danny scoffed. "I'd rather get it done tonight, just to be safe."

"I totally agree," Lindsay concurred. "So, what do you need me to do?"


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** I completely forgot the disclaimer, so here it is. It applies to all chapters of this story, past, present, and future: ALL publicly recognisable characters and settings belong to Someone Else. Anything verifiable belongs to Whoever, Whatever, or Wherever verifies them. Everything else belongs to me.

 **A/N2:** Thanks to **jlmayer** for continuing to review. CSI:NY and Blue Bloods are two of my favourite shows. I love the subtle comedy, and I hope I am doing it justice!

All Danny had to do was hang on. _Just hang on,_ he urged himself in one of his brief periods of lucidity.

"Daniel Claude Reagan, age 42, injured in an explosion of unknown cause. GCS of 8, eyesight not measured because of trauma. Heavily bleeding head wound. Responsiveness to voice has deteriorated en route," Zelda reported. "Initial complaints of generalised soreness along spine and around abdomen, impaired limb movement universally."

By this time Danny had been shifted from the stretcher to the bed under the strict control of a middle-aged doctor. She was wrapping up orders for x-rays and scans when she noticed a blonde nurse hovering in the background. "If you've got nothing to do, I'm sure I can find something," she said sharply.

The interloper blinked. "Sorry. I'm Linda Reagan, I think your patient may be my husband, Danny."

"It would be good to get a definite identification." The doctor led Linda as close to the hospital bed as they could get.

Linda nodded, even as she commanded her body to obey her. Stay up, stay conscious, stay aware. She repeated her mantra as she identified her husband for the doctor and distinguished as many of his injuries as she could for herself. His head was swathed in bandages. He wore a neck brace. His arm was splinted. But this wasn't the time to jump to the worst conclusions and become useless to everyone, or worse, add to the rapidly growing patient numbers. She turned back as the doctor continued speaking.

"He's being taken to Radiology." Before she could continue, Linda asked her name. "I'm Doctor Naomi Rathbone."

"I'm going back to work," Linda said. "Please, have someone keep me informed. Page me if necessary, though it's highly unlikely you'll have to, since I'm not going to leave this department until I know what is going on with him." Taking a deep breath she whirled and walked away. After treating a few more people for mild to moderate injuries she went to be assigned her next patient. Suddenly, she wished she'd stayed with Danny.

"Hi, Jamie," she greeted her brother-in-law cheerfully.

"Hi, Linda. Sorry, they wouldn't let me go home without getting checked out first," Jamie apologised.

"And so they shouldn't. You got a knock to the head, right? And cut your hands and legs while you were dragging people out of a burning building?" Linda read off the notes Tifani had given her.

"I see the gossip mill has been running full speed and spitting out just as much bunkum as usual." Jamie grinned, and then grasped his stomach. "Ouch."

"There's no mention here of abdominal pain." Linda consulted her notes. "Lie down. Where's it hurting?"

With slow, careful movements, Jamie lay down on the bed. "Why can't they make these things more comfortable?" he groaned as he put his hand on his right lower abdomen.

Linda checked Jamie's blood pressure and temperature and was relieved to find them normal. "How are you feeling? Any nausea or dizziness? Headache or loss of consciousness?"

"Not for a second." The reply was so immediate and instantaneous that Linda was more than half inclined to disbelief, especially when Jamie winced even as he shrugged. "I'm sure it's nothing."

"I'm the nurse," Linda reminded him. "I'll be the one to make the judgement call on that, thank you very much!" She gently palpated his stomach, and scrutinised her patient closely for subconscious signs of pain. She knew her husband and his brother, they were masters of disguising anything they didn't want others to know. But she'd been around them too often, loved them too long, to not have learnt a thing or two about how to read their body language. Seeing nothing amiss, she proclaimed his injuries minor and began to stitch and dress his cuts and grazes.

"Thank goodness Danny hadn't arrived yet. He was supposed to meet me there for lunch but he must have been running late. He hadn't appeared before the explosion." Jamie hissed as a particularly deep cut was tended to. "I really should give him a ring and let him know I'm okay. He's probably harassing every ambulance driver at the scene looking for me," he laughed.

Linda tensed slightly and blinked away sudden unbidden tears, inadvertently pulling the suture on Jamie's leg tighter than necessary.

"Ow, Linda, what the heck!" Jamie squealed.

"Sorry," Linda mumbled.

"Knock knock."

Linda immediately recognised the voice. _Damn!_ She dropped her instruments into a metal bowl, totally missing her patient recoiling from the noise. "I'll be back in a minute." She pushed her way through the curtain.

"Naomi!"

 _Great, Jamie knows her,_ Linda thought. _This isn't going to end well._

"Jamie?" Naomi Rathbone spoke through the opening. "You got caught in the explosion too, huh?"

"Yeah, not too bad, though." He coughed a few times as his smoke irritated lungs protested the movement. "Most of the blast was in the front of the bar, I was in the back. What are you doing here? I thought you only handled . . . " his voice trailed off as he mentally finished his sentence with the words "life-threatening emergencies". _No, it can't be!_ One glance at Linda, who had rushed back to his bedside when he began struggling to breathe, told him the truth. He sat on the edge of the bed and clasped her hand. _Now isn't the time to fall apart,_ he told himself sternly. _You can do that later. After the family have been told. After you've seen him. After the funeral._ He took breaths, breaths deep enough to fill his lungs but not to drown his grief; breaths painful enough to assure him he was still alive even as he wished himself dead.

"Danny?" he whispered. "Tell me," he demanded. "Tell me!"

Naomi was now also in the cubicle with them and she spoke to Linda, who had sunk into the seat beside Jamie's bed and grasped his hand. "Would you like us to speak in private?"

Linda shook her head, so Naomi continued. "All I can tell you right now is that he is on his way to theatre for exploratory surgery because he is showing signs of severe internal bleeding. The most severe injury that we can see is to his left eye. Shrapnel from the explosion is embedded in the eyeball. We'll know more about how bad it is after he is out of surgery. He also has a broken cheek bone, a broken jaw, and several deep grazes and lacerations." She was turning to go when Jamie's voice stopped her.

"What about brain damage? I mean, if the thing's in his eye, it could pressing on his brain, right?"

"And what about spinal damage?" Linda added. "I heard the paramedic say his range of motion was compromised."

Doctor Rathbone held up her hand. "We won't know anything for certain for a couple of days. Until then it's just a waiting game. I'm sorry. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got to go. I have a patient waiting." She gave them a sympathetic smile and left.

"You need to ring Frank." Jamie stared at the phone that Linda was holding out to him and he shook his head.

"Erin," he said dully. "I'll ring Erin. Dad won't appreciate me ringing him right now. He'll be too busy to take calls from random cops."

"But he won't be too busy to hear from his son. You can bet your braces every other cop in that pub has rung their parents to let them know they're okay. You need to do the same." She pressed the PHONE button and handed it over. "It's ringing."

"Dad?"

The minute he heard his son's voice, Frank's 'father instinct' was on high alert. It didn't matter that he was in a crisis meeting. He'd been trying to contact Jamie throughout the afternoon, and now that he had, his mind had already left the building. He'd not heard his youngest son sound so lost and alone since the day of Joe's funeral. "Jamie, what is it?" he asked urgently. "Are you at the pub? Are you hurt? Do you need me to send help?"

"No, I'm at the hospital. Yeah, St. Vincent's. I was there, but I'm fine. I helped out before coming to the hospital to get checked out. Anyway I'm not important." He cleared his throat and Frank heard a soft noise, as if Jamie's eyelashes were repeatedly brushing the phone. "It's Danny. He . . . he . . . he got really hurt, Dad. He is in surgery, something about his eye and his face and internal bleeding. I don't know what to do, Dad! Should I ring Pop or Erin or I don't know, Dad, he's in surgery."

Frank recognised the signs of an impending panic attack and reacted quickly to snap his son out of it. "Jamie," he said softly, and when that didn't work he spoke again, sharper this time, and louder. "Jamie. Listen to me."

"Yes." Finally Jamie was tuned in to his father's voice.

"I'm coming now," Frank consoled him. "You don't need to do anything, okay? Just take some deep breaths and wait for me. I'll be there soon. Where are you?"

"We're in the Emergency Department," Jamie picked at the sutures on his stomach. "I'm not sure where. Let me ask Linda."

"Hold on," said Frank. "Let me talk to her for a minute."

There was a muffled conversation in the background and then the strained voice of his daughter-in-law came on the phone. "Hi, Frank."

"I'm on my way. Is there somewhere where I can meet you in private?"

"Sure," Linda said immediately.

"Make sure Danny's doctors know how to find you, then ring me and let me know where you'll be," Frank directed.

"Thanks, Frank," said Linda gratefully. "Do you want me to…?"

"No," interrupted Frank again. "We'll take care of all of that. Do you want the boys to come to the hospital, or go to Erin's house and wait with her and Nicky?"

"Here, please." That was what Frank completely expected to hear. "I need to have all my family here with me, and the boys need to hear about Danny from me."

"Okay," Frank agreed. "See you soon." He closed the phone and walked out of the room, much to the consternation of almost everyone else. His Deputy Commissioner of Public Relations, Garrett Moore stood to take over the running of the meeting.

"The car's already at the door," his Personal Assistant, Detective Abigail Baker assured him as they walked down the hall. "You go and take care of your family, Garrett and I'll take care of things here. I'll ring Erin and your Dad. Where should I tell them to meet you?" Baker already had her phone out, taking notes.

"At St. Vincent's Hospital." Frank said as he entered the elevator. "Thank you, Baker. Please give my apologies to the meeting. I can be contacted on my mobile as it becomes necessary."

"I tendered your apology while you were on the phone," Baker assured him. "I told them that you were going to the hospital to visit the cops who were injured, and that you would provide an update when you could. Let me know if there is anything else I can do."

"I will," Frank said with a grateful nod.

As the car took off at a flirting-with-speeding pace, Frank's thoughts were going at a velocity ten times greater. Part of him hoped the fear he'd heard in Jamie's voice had caused his son to exaggerate Danny's injuries, and the truth wasn't as dire as he'd been led to believe. But Frank knew Jamie wasn't an exaggerator. Playing up the drama quotient was Danny's playbook, not Jamie's. This was bad, real bad. He just hoped they'd all be at Danny's bedside when the time came.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** Thanks to jlmayer and BLBLF for your continued support. I'm ecstatic that you're enjoying it so much! –hugs-

 **Guest1:** I can't believe you read and reviewed every chapter at once! Your enthusiasm is wonderful –hugs-

 **Guest2** : You're partly right in that nurses are not allowed to diagnose after palpation. Thanks for pointing that out to me. I hope I've kind of remedied that oversight in this chapter –hugs-

The whole family had indeed got there in time. Actually, there was no "in time" because Danny was fine, relatively speaking.

The worst of his injuries were a broken cheek bone and a badly scratched eyeball, over which he had to temporarily wear an eyepatch. Besides that he had minimal internal bleeding, and lots of scratches and scrapes. Despite this, he had, much to his disgust, been admitted for a forty eight hour concussion watch, after which he "could probably go home" as long as he promised to "rest up and not do anything stupid." And much to their disgust, Jack and Sean were only able to see their father briefly before being sent home to stay with Erin and Nicky. Jamie, too, had been banished. Linda had insisted he see a doctor "just to make sure I didn't miss anything". Although the doctor had indeed cleared him of serious injury, he had, due to his smoke inhalation, been given the same orders as his brother. To that end, Frank appointed himself his son's guardian and keeper.

At exactly eight o'clock the next morning, Jamie and Frank arrived to find them waiting impatiently for the hospital doors to open.

"They're late." Jack rapped on the glass. "Visiting hours started at eight."

"Which was all of 2 minutes ago." Frank took his grandson's hand. "Be patient."

"But I want to see Daddy!" Jack whined.

Not a minute later, the doors opened and, without a word, Jack and Sean ran over to the elevators, with Frank and Jamie close behind.

Finally they found Linda in the ward's visitor's lounge and Sean leapt into her arms. "How's Daddy?"

At that precise moment, Jack looked up as Jamie's cellphone started ringing.

"Sorry, I've got to take this," Jamie moved to a corner. "Hello, Jamie speaking."

"Officer Jamison Reagan?" The voice was vaguely familiar, but in his fatigued state, Jamie couldn't quite place it.

"Who is this?"

"Detective Don Flack, New York Crime Lab. You were at the Shiny Penguin Bar yesterday?"

"I'm sorry, I'm unable to make any comment at this time." Jamie snapped his phoned shut and turned back to Linda, who had stopped talking at his comment. "Reporter purporting to be from the Crime Lab."

Frank immediately dialled a number, spoke, and then handed the phone to his son.

"Hi, Jamie." It was the same voice.

"H-hello," Jamie stammered. "So-sorry."

"What for? I just need to know if you've given a statement yet."

"No, I haven't," Jamie informed him. "Can I ring you back in a few minutes? We're just getting an update on my brother's condition."

Once again, he hung up on Detective Flack. "They need me to give a statement," he informed his family.

Frank took back his phone. "You talk to Linda. I'll sort it out."

A few minutes later, father and son left together.

"Just let me out here. I can walk the rest of the way. I could do with the exercise." Jamie said when they were two blocks short of the perimeter of the crime scene.

"Are you sure?" Frank was concerned for his youngest's safety.

"Yes," Jamie insisted. "There'll be media at every entry point, and someone's bound to realise I'm here soon. If you're with me, you'll end up being late for your media conference. I'll be fine."

He got out and flashed Frank a smile that portrayed a confidence he wasn't feeling. He hadn't even walked a block before his prediction came true.

"Officer Reagan! How's your brother?"

Jamie starting jogging, but the reporter kept pace with him, so he started running. By the time he was inside the crime scene perimeter, he was completely out of breath, but he had left the reporter in his dust.

 _What am I going to do now?_ he thought through a haze of muddled exhaustion. Pain, worry, and a huge dollop of guilt, had kept him awake and tossing and turning for most of the night. As a consequence, he was now quickly heading towards complete shutdown. _I don't know what this Don Flack guy looks like,_ _and we haven't confirmed a specific place to meet._ Jamie kicked himself for this oversight. "Ow!" He hopped on the spot and then rubbed his lower leg.

Seeing a crowd of media reporters approaching him, he quickly dialled the phone number Don had given him.

"Detective Flack? Jamie Reagan."

"Where are you?"

"At the checkpoint on Reed Road," Jamie said.

"Stay there," Don instructed him. "I'll be there in ten minutes."

"Can you make it any sooner?" Jamie pleaded. "The media are about to descend like hyenas onto a carcass."

"Let me speak to the guard," Don ordered.

"Sure," Jamie was confused, but he passed the phone over. The guard listened for a few seconds, then passed it back to Jamie.

"Come through." He gestured to a building just down the street. "Detective Flack will meet you there. That mob'll soon get sick of hassling you if you ignore them."

"Oh, I'm good at that," Jamie assured him. He bounced on the balls of his feet. Part of his fidgeting was because of the cool temperature of the early morning, but a larger part of it was impatience. He just really didn't want to be here. He wanted to be with his family.

Luckily it wasn't long before someone approached him.

"Hi, I'm Don Flack." He introduced himself with a grin that obviously came easily. Just like Danny's did. The thought came to him unbidden, and Jamie shoved it away. He couldn't let himself think of what might have been. He had to do everything he could to help these guys find the fiend who did this to his brother.

"Jamie Reagan," he said. He held out his hand, which Don shook heartily. "Sorry I sounded rude on the phone before."

"Don't worry about it," Don dismissed his apology. "You've had a lot on your mind."

"Actually it had more to do with the news reporter who chased me here," Jamie said ruefully. "I didn't particularly want to say something on next to no sleep."

"Dangerous territory," Don agreed. "So, how is your brother?"

Jamie walked a little bit faster. "Where exactly are we headed?"

Don took the hint. "You were at the back of the bar?"

Jamie nodded.

"Then that's where we'll start." Don kicked at a stone. "It actually works out well since my team are still processing the scene. With you there, if they have any questions, they have a credible witness to ask."

"Why me?" Jamie tried to keep the resentment out of his voice, but he knew he didn't quite succeed because he could hear it himself. "There were plenty of other cops in the bar at the time."

"And all of them are being interviewed," Don pointed down the driveway by the pub. "This way."

Jamie bit back a scathing remark. _Relax,_ he ordered himself. _The sooner you get this over with the better. No need to get yourself arrested._ "But are you calling all of them back here for walk throughs?"

"Only those who we need specific information from."

"Sorry." Jamie looked up into the sky.

"No worries." Don directed Jamie to the broken door through which he'd first escaped.

Jamie stopped as they approached. His breathing went from his normal deep and regular rhythm to severely shallow and ragged. There was a brick wall in front of him and a sea of molasses beneath him. Beads of sweat travelled down his dark blonde hair and dripped into his ears. His skin was freezing and, when he went to rub his hands up his arms to warm them up, he was perplexed to find that his skin was clammy and he had goose pimples.

"Are you alright?" Don halted and peered into Jamie's eyes.

"I'm fine," Jamie assured him. After what seemed like a millennium his breathing returned to a more normal rate, the brick wall and molasses dissipated, and his skin wasn't quite so moist and cold.

"Damn flashbacks, huh?" Don sympathised.

"I'm not having flashbacks!" Jamie denied vigorously.

"You don't have to have been to war to experience flashbacks," Don continued. "Any trauma can result in them. They're no respecter of person, place, time or situation."

"Do you want my witness statement or don't you?" Jamie demanded. He greeted the two women guarding the door and showed them his identification. "Hi, Eddie. Hi, Mason."

Jamie inspected the carnage. It was much as it had been, except there was now a path cleared from the back door right through to the front.

"Take your time," Don reassured him. "Just start when you're ready." Jamie took a deep breath and slowly recounted the events starting with his arrival at the bar and ending when he got to the hospital.

"Did he ask you to lunch, or did you ask him? Was it planned or spontaneous?" Don prompted, trying to get Jamie to think of any information that could be pertinent to the investigation.

"I rang him this morning and we arranged it then," Jamie said.

"Were you at home or at work?"

"I was at home, alone." Jamie automatically phrased his answer as an alibi.

"So there's no way anyone else could've known about your plans?" Don interrogated.

"No." Jamie paused. "Wait. I was at work when I texted him the time and place. I suppose someone could have heard me mumbling to myself or seen the text. They would've had to have had really strong supersonic hearing or sight though."

 _Or maybe you weren't as careful as you thought._ Don made a note in his notebook to interview everyone who had been at work with Jamie that morning. "Did you tell anybody at the Precinct where you were going, or who you were meeting?"

"No," Jamie denied.

"Did you call from a land line or a mobile?"

"Mobile." Jamie looked around impatiently.

Don moved forward. "Okay. Show me where you were sitting." Jamie moved forward, and for the next half hour walked Don through where the different events happened. Finally Don snapped his notebook shut. "I think that's all we need. Do you have a ride back to the hospital?"

Jamie shook his head. "Dad's at a press conference, so I was going to phone for a cab."

"I'm sure we can do better than that." Don walked back toward the back door. "There's enough of us here that we don't need two guards at the door. I'll get one of them to drop you back."

"Sure, I'll do it," Eddie volunteered.

"I hope that you working with them doesn't mean we're going to lose you to the Crime Lab," Jamie joked as they walked companionably to the police car.

"Not for ages," Eddie assured him. "I'm quite happy where I am."

Jamie's nod transformed into a yawn and Eddie pushed him toward the passenger door of the car and pulled out the keys.

"Excuse me?" Jamie held out his hand. "Seniority here, thank you very much."

"Nuh uh," Eddie slid into the driver's seat. "Possession is nine tenths of the law, you know."

Jamie folded himself into the passenger's seat. "I'm pretty sure that's a myth, you know."

Eddie shrugged. "But you can't argue with the fact that it solves a lot of arguments."

Jamie laughed. "That it does. That it does." Then he sobered. "I couldn't find you yesterday. I was getting really worried."

Eddie concentrated on the road as she answered. "I'd left a few minutes before it happened. I heard the explosion and ran back to see what had happened."

Jamie perked up. "Did you see anything? A car? Anyone acting suspiciously?"

"I gave my statement," Eddie said flatly.

"That doesn't answer my question!" Jamie looked out the side window to calm himself. "Sorry." _I seem to be apologising a lot lately,_ he thought. Then he looked at Eddie and realised that she was refusing to look at him. "You do know something," he accused.

"No, I don't," Eddie denied vehemently.

"Yes, you do. You're squirming."

"I heard you muttering to yourself this morning about meeting Danny," Eddie admitted. "Then I saw you eating alone at the pub. So, when I heard someone was trapped, I put two and two together and told Sergeant Gormley it was Danny."

"And you didn't think of trying to find me and tell me?" Jamie eyed Eddie with disbelief.

"Sergeant Gormley told me not to," Eddie defended herself. "He said I had no proof and he needed you there a cop not as a brother. And, looking back, he was right. You saved a lot of people as Officer Reagan that you wouldn't have as Jamie Reagan. He knew it, I know it, and deep down, you know it, too."

"I should have had the choice to come to that conclusion on my own," Jamie grumped.

"But would you have?" Eddie finally looked at Jamie. "Would you have chosen your job over your family, given that everybody else was definitely alive, but Danny possibly wasn't?"

"I still should've been told."

"Then we'll have to agree to disagree." Eddie pulled up outside the hospital and leaned over Jamie to open his door. "Say hi to your family," she said curtly.

Jamie stared out the open door and then looked back at Eddie. "I'm sorry," he apologised again. "He was probably right."

Realizing that was the best she was going to get, Eddie shoved him in the shoulder playfully. "Don't worry about it, partner. Just get back up there and take care of your family. Just keep in touch, yeah?"

"Yeah." As Jamie wearily walked through the hospital doors, he was drawn into a pair of comforting arms. He relaxed onto his father's shoulder and the two swapped tales about their day as they walked.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N:** As always, thanks for all the reviews, favourites and follows! Some of you have asked about Danny's 'miraculous' recovery. Don't worry. The answer will come. Also, before we get much further I suggest you visit my profile and read my Reagan family backgrounds for names, ages, and people characteristics, so you know where I'm coming from. Thanks!

It didn't take Jamie long to tell a version, albeit abridged, version of his day. "Your turn," he prompted his father.

"Remember that phone call I got last night just before I went to bed?"

"You mean, before you were _supposed_ to be going to bed?" Jamie kidded him, and Frank looked abashed.

"Anyway." He shoved Jamie playfully. "It was Detective Baker." He swiped his hand through his hair, still wishing he'd ignored that phone call.

"Sorry to disturb you so late, Sir. Garrett has arranged a press conference for tomorrow morning, but the Mayor wants to meet you first to go over the agenda."

"He didn't say anything to me when I saw him at the hospital."

"Oh, yes. He said Danny was lass injured than you expected, and the doctor was more of an ass than he expected.

Frank laughed. "See you in the morning. Good night, Baker."

"Good night, Sir. I'll see you at nine o'clock."

Frank arrived promptly and headed straight to the Press Room, where Baker was waiting outside. He pulled her aside. "Danny's lost his wedding ring. It's somewhere between the rubble and the hospital. I need you to find it and return it. It's a family heirloom."

"I'll find it," Baker promised, adding yet another note to the list attached to her clipboard. "Don't worry about it. Now go, the Mayor is waiting for you." She shooed him off.

"If he takes the conference into areas I don't want to talk about, I will walk out," threatened Frank to nobody in particular.

"I know," Garrett muttered to himself as he rushed up to Frank. "That's what this meeting is for." He handed Frank a piece of paper. "To decide which subjects are off limits." He pointed to the room next door to them. "The Mayor is waiting. He's in there."

Frank paused with his hand on the door handle. He took a deep breath and breathed a prayer to calm himself. Then he opened the door. "Hello, Mr. Mayor," he greeted. "Thank you once again for visiting us in the hospital."

Mayor Poole nodded. "Is there any update on Danny?" he asked solicitously.

"No." Frank frowned. He was unwilling to discuss anything with the Mayor that he didn't want made public.

"That subject is out of bounds during the media conference," Garrett firmly told the Mayor as he followed Frank through the door.

"Fair enough," he said, throwing up his hands in surrender. "So what can we mention?"

"I presume your Press Secretary has given you a sufficiently politically correct statement to read out," Frank pointed out sarcastically. "Let's start there."

"Sounds good." The mayor opened his briefcase, pulled out a folder, and extricated a paper. "Here it is."

There were a few moments of silence while Garrett and Frank perused the carefully worded statement.

"You're right, it does sound good," Frank confirmed.

"Thank you," the Mayor said. "What about yours?"

"Unfortunately we haven't had time to prepare a statement," Garrett admitted. "That is what this meeting is for."

"Then why am I here?" the Mayor asked.

"I'd like to know that myself," Frank muttered. Garrett shot him a warning look.

"So that both of you know what the other is going to say," Garrett informed the Mayor. "This is definitely a matter of city security, possibly even national security. We think it's vital neither of you go into this blind."

"Agreed," the Mayor nodded.

"So it's agreed that you'll both stick to the statements you're given to read, and the topics we agree to discuss?" Garrett stared at both men, and they both nodded their acquiescence. "Good."

"So what do we need to include?" Twirling his pen, Frank addressed Garrett.

The three men spent the next half hour sorting out what was known, what was supposition, and who was going to give what data. Topics were taken off Frank's list and put on the Mayor's list, and topics were taken off the Mayor's list and put on Frank's list. Some topics were added to the agenda, others were discarded. They also made a list of what questions might come up and how they should be handled.

"So are we all ready?" the Mayor asked.

"Yes," said Frank. "Let's get this over and done with so that I can get back to my family."

A few minutes later, Garrett informed them that their audience was ready, so they went through the curtain to the front of the Press Room.

"Thank you all for coming here today." Garrett read his ritual greeting from the stage. "First, we'll hear from the Mayor of New York City, Carter Poole, then New York City Police Commissioner, Frank Reagan. A limited question time will follow. Mr. Mayor?"

"Yes, thank you, Garrett. As you all will be aware by now, there was a small explosion in the front of The Shiny Penguin Bar during the lunchtime rush yesterday. Even though it was definitely a deliberate and malicious act, it doesn't appear to have been an act of terrorism. Even so, all of our city's defence systems have been put on full alert, and all applicable national agencies have been fully briefed to be on alert to be of immediate assistance if necessary, although that eventuality still seems highly unlikely at this stage. A perimeter has been established within a three block radius of the scene." Mindlessly, he started drawing circles on the lectern with his finger. "This affects the area bounded by, and including, Reed, Garrison, Meyer, and Dui streets. These blockades will stay in place until the investigation by the New York Crime Lab has been completed. In the meantime, we ask that no unessential travel be undertaken in that area." He made eye contact with a television reporter in the front row. "I would like to extend my sincere thanks, and the thanks of my city, to all those who helped in the rescue effort today. Your hard work and selflessness haven't gone unnoticed. Because of you, lives were saved, injuries were swiftly dealt with, and damage minimised. With your help, and with the assistance of the citizens of our great city, we will not be cowed in the face of such cowardice. Now we'll hear from Police Commissioner, Frank Reagan. Frank?"

"Yes, thank you, Mr Mayor." Frank stepped forward. "I can confirm that the business that was targeted is a popular eating place for many of the members of our police force, and some of them, as well as members of the public, have been injured, though, thankfully, none of those injuries are thought to be life threatening. The scene has been put under police guard this evening, and evidence is being collected, identified, and processed as we speak. Witnesses will be spoken to in the coming days as they are identified and located, but our job will be made much easier if they come forward of their own accord." He leant forward, gripping the wood so tightly his palms were read for hours after the conference was over. "Therefore, we are asking that if you were in the vicinity of Reed, Garrison, Meyer, and Dui streets yesterday between the hours of 8am and 3pm, please ring the crime hotline number at the bottom of your screens as soon as you can. Our trained investigators can ascertain if you need to be interviewed further. Doing this will save us all time and bring the perpetrator to justice swiftly. It's been a long night for a lot of people, and I would also like to extend my gratitude to them for their dedication and loyalty during this time. I'll now take a few questions before my team and I have to return to work." He glanced around the room before settling about halfway back. "Yes, Kevin?"

"Do we have any specific word on injuries?"

"As I have already said, none of the injuries sustained in the blast are thought to be life threatening. It isn't known at this time exactly how many people are hurt," Frank answered. He indicated another reporter. "Yes?"

"Any indication on how long the investigation will take, and how long the businesses in that area will continue to suffer financial losses, and how they will be compensated?" The female reporter inhaled deeply after delivering her question in one long breath.

"No, no, and no. Last question." He pointed a finger to his left.

"Commissioner, what do you say in response to the rumour that your eldest son, Detective Daniel Reagan, the only person seriously hurt in this incident, was specifically targeted?" This unsolicited question came from a shadow the back of the room

Frank went pale and stumbled. Garrett immediately appeared at his side. "Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, that's all for today. We will of course keep you updated with any further developments." He led the shaken Police Commissioner behind the curtain, and far enough away from the reporters that they wouldn't be heard.

"Frank, I'm so sorry!" he apologised profusely. "I had absolutely no idea that there was such a rumour floating around!"

Frank smiled tiredly and ran his fingers though the stubble on his face. "I know you didn't," he assured Garrett. "I trained you better than that!"

Garrett grinned, thankful for both the humour and Frank's trust in him.

After answering a few more questions, the Mayor excused himself and returned to behind the curtain. "Frank. Go be with your family. Give them my best. I'll be in touch."

"Thank you, Mr. Mayor," smiled Frank. "I'll pass on your greetings."

Just then Garrett's phone rang. He moved away and spoke briefly. Then he hung up the phone and returned to Frank. "That was the guy who was supposed to keep me informed of developments in the investigation. Apparently, there's a rumour going around that Danny was the specific target of the attack today."

"Just as Danny is the specific target of our visit right now." Frank finished talking, and the elevator doors opened to Danny's hospital ward.


	10. Chapter 10

**CONFESSION TIME!**

Part of the reason I've been inconsistent with posting up until now if Chapter 14, the chapter that explains Danny's 'miraculous' recovery. It just didn't want to be written! I didn't want to upload 13 chapters in succession and then have you waiting for weeks or even months for the next chapter, so I went slow for a while. Now that Chapter 14 is written, consistent transmission will begin.

As always, thanks for all the reviews, favourites and follows! Please remember to visit my profile and read my Reagan family backgrounds for names, ages, and people characteristics, so you know where I'm coming from. Thanks!

* * *

"Mac! I wasn't expecting to see you here. Meet my youngest son, Jamie. Jamie, Mac Taylor, head of the Crime Lab." They all exchanged handshakes and further pleasantries. "So, what brings the Big Boss to the hospital? Not more injuries, I hope?"

"No." Mac shook his head. "I came to take Danny's statement, that's all. Unfortunately, he couldn't tell me anything we don't already know. He had no reason to believe he was being followed, and apart from a few suspected but unsubstantiated instances of property tampering, nothing untoward has happened to him lately. I'm heading back to the lab now. I'll send you an update when I have one."

Mac didn't go to the Lab, not at first, anyway. Instead, he followed a suspicious looking vehicle all the way to the crime scene. He then watched as two men got out and walked down the road toward the ruined building.

 _What are those two doing now?_ He got out of the car. "Hey!"

"Oh, hey, Mac!" Danny Messer whirled around. "Did you get anything useful from the witness?"

Mac shook his head as he finally caught up with Danny and Sheldon. "It depends on what you call useful. I'm guessing you're not here for the scenery?"

"Finishing up the scene examination. Everyone else is back at the lab. There's just one thing left to do and we're the mugs who drew the short straw." Sheldon turned in a circle as he walked, indicating the world around him. "Somewhere either within or without this perimeter is a dark blue 2002 Honda Accord Coupe, with the license plate Charlie Foxtrot Kil belonging to one Detective Daniel Reagan. We just have to find it."

Mac jingled an evidence bag he'd been hiding in his hand. "It's a good thing I went to see him then."

"Keys! You've got his keys! Please tell me you have a location, too!"

"Down, boy! Down!" Sheldon laughed, but he looked expectantly at his boss.

"Unfortunately, no. His memory is still spotty." He extricated the keys and threw them at Sheldon. "Have fun!"

"Let's just hope it still works." Glumly, Sheldon and Danny started to search.

"Wait." Danny pursed his lips. "If I was meeting a family member for lunch, where would I park? I don't have any reason to think I'm in danger, so there's no need to hide. So it should be in plain sight. I know the area, and I'm running late so I know I won't get a carpark at the pub." His deductions were interrupted by his phone. He answered it, listened for a moment, and then hung up. "I conclude the car will be found somewhere on the premises of the strip mall a couple of blocks down."

Sheldon snatched Danny's phone out of his hand. He read the call log and scoffed. "Mac told you where to look."

Danny looked at the horizon and whistled, and Sheldon laughed as they ambled down the street and into the parking lot, where they split up and began searching.

"There it is!" Danny yelled to Sheldon, waving him over.

"Are you sure?" Sheldon yelled back.

"Yeah! I'm sure!"

"You don't have to yell so loud, I'm just here," Sheldon said in his ear. He jumped and bumped the car next to him. He held his breath. Luckily, no alarm sounded. "You're so mean," he groused. "That's the one."

"There's not much in it," Danny commented. "Is Mac sure this man has kids?"

"He does."

Danny looked at him. "You know him?"

"I know someone who has kids at his kid's school. Danny Reagan definitely has kids."

With even more resolve, Sheldon pulled on a pair of gloves. "Are you ready?"

"Sure," said Danny, making dead spider motions with his already gloved hands. Together, they examined every inch of the outside and underneath of the car. Once they were both satisfied neither of them were in imminent danger from another explosive device, Sheldon unlocked the car. Opening the driver's door, he bent down and began methodically inspecting the interior of the front of the car. Danny opened the rear door and started inspecting the back seat. When they were satisfied, the car was pristine, they gathered everything up, including the minimal trace they'd found, and headed back to the lab. As they arrived, they were discussing who would return Danny's keys.

"I'll do it!" Adam offered eagerly. He grabbed them and ran over to Mac's office where Mac waved him in. After Adam had stood silently for nearly a minute, he prompted, "Do you want something from me? Or do you have something for me?"

"For you. From you," Adam stuttered.

"Well which is it?" Mac asked, not sure whether to be amused or annoyed at Adam's lack of coherency.

Adam took a deep breath. "Both," he blurted. "I got the results back on those pieces of black plastic we found in the rubble at the bar. They are consistent with a Smith and Wesson Three Nine One Four D A O, which is standard issue throughout the NYPD. This was a bar that was known to be a regular hangout for local cops. I think we have to at least consider that the perpetrator might be one of them."

Mac nodded slowly. "So what do you want me to do about it?"

"Let me share my findings with Officer Janko," Adam requested. "She'll be able to find out which officers have reported their guns lost or stolen within the last three months."

"You should be able to find that out yourself, shouldn't you?" Mac asked.

"Only the official ones. There are always rumours and stories and gossip that I wouldn't be privy to," Adam explained.

"And why exactly do you have to take it over to her? Why can't you just email the information to her? Or give it to her a phone call?" Mac prodded.

"She's at work right now. It'll be quicker this way. I'll be there to answer any questions or points that need clarifying. No playing phone or email tag." It was a weak argument and Adam knew it. So he delivered his coup de grace. "And the younger Reagan works with her, so I can return these keys while I'm there." He opened his palm.

"Okay."

Adam didn't waste time. He ran to the lab, grabbed everything he needed and ran to the elevator. He pressed the 'Down' button and jangled his keys and tapped his foot when it didn't arrive straight away.

"Is our roof going to cave in?"

Adam looked over his shoulder. "Oh hi, Jo. What?"

"Well, you're in such a hurry to get out of here I was sure something bad was going to happen," she kidded him.

"No, no, no," Adam stuttered. "Nothing's wrong. I mean, nothing's going to be wrong. I mean nothing is wrong and nothing is going to be wrong. I hope!" he called back as the elevator arrived and he jumped into it like it was his last chance of salvation. "Bye, Jo!" he called as the doors closed.

"Any idea what that was about?" Jo asked Mac, who had come up behind her.

"A girl would be my guess," Mac grinned, thankful that Adam was already in his car and on his way to Precinct Twelve.

Once there, Adam sucked in a deep breath and stretched. _Here goes nothing._ "Excuse me?" he said timidly to the first person he found who didn't seem to be busy. "I'm looking for Officer Edit Janko."

"Eddie? Is she expecting you?"

 _If looks could kill, forget about six, I'd be twelve feet under._ Adam's Adam's Apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed nervously.

"Yes," he confirmed. "I'm Adam Ross from the Crime Lab." He handed over his credentials.

"I'll just give her a ring."

She perused his ID as she spoke briefly into the desk phone. Then she handed it back and gestured with her head. "Go that way, hang a left and then you'll just have to look for her, I'm afraid. I'm not sure were exactly she is."

"Thank you very much," Adam replied. He made his way in the direction he was pointed. Thankfully she wasn't hard to find. _Well, here goes nothing._

"Hi," Eddie said brightly, standing up to greet him. "Let's go over here, where we hopefully won't be disturbed." As they retired to the back corner of the room, neither of them noticed a dark shadow stealthily moving to be within hearing range of what they were saying.

"I've got everything on my email," Adam told Eddie.

"Here." Eddie quickly tapped a few keys while Adam looked on. _A pretty girl who knows her way around a computer,_ he mused. "There you go." Eddie's voice broke into his thoughts. "Sit. Your evidence, you're typing."

"Slave driver," Adam muttered.

Eddie laughed. "I'll pay you back," she promised.

Eyes ahead, Adam clicked through various screens and finally opened up the first document.

Eddie put her hand on the top of the chair Adam was sitting in and leaned forward. Adam felt her hair fall over his shoulder.

"Maybe you should pull up a chair," Adam suggested. "This might take a while."

Eddie rolled a spare chair over and sat on it backwards. "Talk."

The shadow leaned forward to hear what Adam had to say.

Adam shared what he had told Mac earlier.

"And I need to know that why?" Eddie asked.

"I need your help."

"So says every man I know," Eddie noted drily.

"What?" Adam looked at her in confusion.

"Nothing. What can I do to help?"

"Precinct gossip, rumours and small talk about missing weapons. Or maybe criminal informants talking about stuff suddenly appearing where it isn't meant to be."

"You want me to nark on one of my follow officers?" Eddie asked, not quite believing it. "I don't even know you!" She fiddled with a rip in the top of the chair fabric. "You honestly think it might be one of us that's responsible?"

"You know as well as I do we need to exhaust all possibilities. The plastic could be a complete coincidence, or a break in the case. Whichever it is, I still need your help. Are you with me or not?" Adam said impatiently.

"Hey!" Eddie propelled herself back a few inches. "Just give me a minute. I could be signing my own professional death warrant here."

"We don't have time to waste," Adam insisted. To emphasise his point, he pulled up the next report to the screen.

"Okay," Eddie acquiesced reluctantly. "I'm in. What's this?" Using her feet, she thrust the chair forward so she could see the screen better.

"OW!" they both said in unison as their elbows cracked together when Adam moved the mouse at the same time as Eddie reached the desk..

"Sorry," Adam apologised.

The shadow in the background smirked and slunk away. _What a pair of idiots! The criminals of New York have absolutely nothing to fear. They'll get away absolutely scot free every time if those idiot employees at the Crime Lab depend on those two jackasses to supply them with information for their investigations. Which means he'll never be safe. Never!_


	11. Chapter 11

**APOLOGY:** Due to a FUBAR I found during a read through, I've had to rewrite 4 chapters and rearrange some events. Therefore, The Explanation has gone from Chapter 14. I'm reluctant to say where it is because it might not stay there. But it will turn up at some point, I promise! I'm sorry that I'm keeping you in suspense for so long. It definitely wasn't my intent -hugs-

 **GUEST2:** Danny doesn't know that he's the target, yet. Watch out for the fireworks when he finds out.

BB-BB

Unfortunately, Frank and Jamie found Danny asleep. According to his nurse, he'd been loath to admit it, but he felt terrible. Aches, stings, and stabs, he was experiencing them all, as well as every other pain that he could and couldn't imagine. So he gave up, took the prescribed pain relief and anti-nausea meds, and slept. He only woke when a rapping noise roused him.

 _I hope Dad never finds out about this, or Erin either_. Danny warily eyed his niece, who was leaning against the doorframe. "What are you doing here?

"Study period."

"I thought study periods were for studying."

Nicky shrugged and toyed with the waistband of her skirt. "What? I'm not allowed to visit my favorite uncle?"

Danny wasn't fooled. "Okay. What's up?"

Nicky shrugged again.

Danny thumped the bed beside him. "Sit. Talk."

Reluctantly, Nicky obeyed the first, but it took some more considerable prompting for her to obey the second.

"It's nothing really. I mean, it's not life or death or anything like that."

"But?"

"There's this girl, her name's Yana, and she's driving me crazy! She keeps volunteering to be the head of committees and projects at school, but once she's elected nothing gets done. Last semester she was in charge of finding the money for our three-day science class trip and it almost got cancelled because she didn't organise any sponsorships or fundraising activities so there wouldn't have been any money to pay for anything if other people hadn't stepped in." Nicky moved as if to stand up but Danny restrained her. "Then this morning I said I wanted to catch up with her during study period about next month's concert. She said she hadn't even thought about it yet. 'There's plenty of time, stop being such a nag!' Those were her exact words. I'm not being a nag. I'm just sick and tired of everyone else doing all her dirty work for her and getting none of the credit."

"So who gets the credit, then?" Danny interjected.

"She does, of course!" Nicky spat. "All her reports to the teachers and deans are full of the great work _she's_ doing and what a wonderful leader _she_ is. That's why she keeps getting re-elected. All the glory and none of the work, that's her!"

Danny cocked his head sideways. "Have you ever thought of just leaving her be?"

"And let everyone else suffer because of her laziness?" This time there was no stopping the teen as she jumped up. "If that trip hadn't happened, if we couldn't have let off some steam, the rest of term would have been a nightmare. For us, for the teachers, for the whole school and for our families."

"Don't forget the neighbourhood, the city, the county, the state, the country, the continent, the Western World, and all the developing countries on our great planet," Danny reminded her seriously.

For a second Nicky glared, then she bit her lip and thought about what her uncle was actually saying. "I'm blowing this all out of proportion, aren't I?"

Danny held his right thumb and index finger millimetres apart and widened them to full stretch as he spoke. "Just a lickle ickle teeny weeny bit."

"So you really think I should just let her fail?"

"What's the worst that could happen?"

Before she could answer, there was a knock on the door. "Danny Reagan?"

"Yes?"

"Hi, Detective Reagan." She stopped. "I'm sorry, I didn't realise you had a visitor. I'll come back later."

"Nah, I'm just going." Nicky gave Danny a kiss, gathered up her stuff and disappeared out the door, calling back after her," I'll ring you later!"

"Are you sure now's an alright time to visit? You're not too tired or anything are you?"

Danny shook his head at the visitor's enquiry. "It's quite alright. You work with my brother, Jamie, don't you?"

His visitor nodded. "I'm Probationary Officer Mason Dunnery. Did you know that Jamie was back at work this morning? Of course you did. You're his brother," she babbled. "I would have thought he would have taken another couple of days off, that's all." She shrugged.

"He never was very good at taking care of himself." At Mason's inquiring look, a conversation started, with Jamie Reagan as the central subject.

As the talk dwindled, Mason looked at her watch. "I'd better get going. I've just come off an early shift and I'm back on deck tomorrow. No rest for the wicked, as they say. Oh, by the way, I brought you a get well soon present."

"Just as long as it's not another bunch of flowers or bowl of fruit," Danny joked, taking the box into his hands. He read the label and his face lit up. "Seriously? I can't take this, Mason." He handed the box back, but his visitor refused to take it. "I'm serious. This is one of the most expensive brands of chocolate on the open market in America."

"I know, right?" Mason enthused. "I should know. I must be one of the biggest buyers of this product in the country. I think I buy about a box a month. And it's the nicest, too."

"I wouldn't know about that," Danny admitted. "I've never been able to afford it. Two kids, a wife and a mortgage, you know the drill."

"Not personally," Mason disagreed. "Well, now you don't have to afford it. Have those ones on me. Go on, open it."

Danny slowly chose a piece of chocolate out of the box. Reverently, he peeled back the wrapping around the delicacy. He listened to the paper slowly ripping revealing the treat hidden below. He took a long sniff as the aroma wafted toward his twitching nostrils. "Mmm!" he hummed in delight. "That smells heavenly!" He ran his fingers lightly over the surface of the dark brown cube. "So smooth, so sleek, so soft," he murmured. "Last chance to take it back," he offered only half seriously.

"No, I'm good," Mason chuckled, enjoying that Danny was getting such obvious delight out of her present.

Danny put the first piece between his lips. His eyes shone as his teeth broke through the only just slightly soft chocolate and met with a satisfying crunch. "So how good's my brother at his job?" This casual question led to another lively exchange, this time on the subject of Officer Jamison Reagan.

"Looks like he won't need any lunch."

Chewing on his sixth chocolate, Danny grinned at his wife. "Thish ishn't lunch. It'sh chocolate."

 _Two pretty women in one day. Interesting. Especially since he's supposedly married._ "I'd better get going." Mason pushed herself off the window sill she had been sitting on. "Thanks for the ammo, Danny. See you later."

"Bye."

Linda eyed her husband suspiciously. _Ammo?_ "Don't go on my account. The doctor's probably running late, anyway."

"I've stayed too long as it is." Mason mumbled more goodbyes and scampered out the door.

"You really do have to work on your people skills, hon," Danny chided. "That scowl tends to scare people off, not exactly conducive to a happy relationship with my fellow police officers now, is it? Oooh ohh," he suddenly groaned. When Linda reached for the call button, he hastened to interpret for her. "That definitely sounds like Dad talking to Naomi out there. Can't you hear them?"

Linda listened and smirked. _This is going to be fun!_ She had just enough time to clear the seat and sit down before the door was pushed open. "Dr Owno!" she exclaimed.

"Yes?"

"Sorry. We weren't expecting to see you. We thought we heard Dr Rathbone talking to Danny's father in the hall."

Dr. Imran Owno's red curls bobbed as he shook his head. "I don't know anything about that, but I can ask the nurse on the way out, if you want me to?" he asked Danny. "Righto. Follow my finger."

Danny was sure it was the hundredth time since he'd been admitted that he'd heard those words. The back of said finger appeared from above Danny's head then dropped below his chin. It appeared from past his ear and disappeared just past his nose. It was always the same finger. The one beside the thumb. He struggled to remember what it was called. _Oh yes, that's right, the index finger_. Danny reckoned he could even pick it out of a police line-up. Pink index finger on the right hand, approximately four and a half inches in height, slightly more than one inch in diameter, and about two and three quarters of an inch in circumference. No white nail tip, but visible signs of recent trauma to the right side. The healing wound is jagged and blunt as if it had been caught on something or possibly had something torn from it. Sitting just below the finger pad is a rough patch, indicative of having a wart recently removed. A thick vein prominently runs up the middle of the lowest joint, disappearing a little over halfway through the second joint. The fingerprint is a straightforward pattern of arches over and under a whorl.

But that wasn't why he was sick of hearing those words. He was sick of hearing those words because the tests were always followed by the words "You're showing steady progress." In other words, "Be patient. Not much has changed but we won't say so. We don't want you losing hope."

Sure enough, Dr. Owno uttered the expected words. "The corneal abrasion is healing well. Providing you continue with the treatment regime I won't need to see you again before you are discharged. I'm in surgery all day tomorrow, so I'll have my receptionist contact you with an appointment for the Out Patient's Clinic in five days."

Danny decided to bite the bullet. "So when can I go back to work?"

"I'll let you know in five days."

"Ball park?" Danny challenged.

"I'll let you know in five days." The doctor packed away his instruments.

"Thanks for your time, Dr Owno. I've got to go and get our boys, so I'll walk you out." Linda picked up her handbag and followed the doctor out the door.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N:** I love reading all the guesses everyone is making about Mason and the chocolate! Keep them coming. They really do give me something to look forward to whenever I check my emails. -hugs- Rhino

* * *

"Do you want us to go, Babe? You look exhausted."

At Linda's words, Danny felt immensely guilty. He'd tried to take a nap after she'd left with Dr Owno, but he'd tossed and turned the whole time before his wife and sons arrived to spend a pleasant evening with him.

They'd even brought him his favourite pizza, Napoletana. They'd eaten a leisurely dinner, during which Danny and Linda listened to the boys chattering about their day. Afterwards, he'd supervised the boys doing their homework. When Linda had taken Sean to the toilet, he'd extracted an admission from Jack that the boy had heard talk in the school halls that his father was hurt too bad to ever be a cop again. He had just enough time to convince Jack that he'd be back at work in "a week or three" before Linda and Sean returned, discussing the "friendly young man in the hall." Not knowing exactly who they were talking about, Danny smiled to himself. _Trust Sean to make friends in a hospital corridor._

It was then that Linda made her observation.

Danny signalled to his boys to climb up on his bed. When they were settled, one on each side of him, he held out his hand to his wife. She put her hand in his, sat on the edge of the bed and leant over Sean to give Danny a kiss. Ignoring his son's disgust, Danny reciprocated passionately. They sat back and stared at each other until Linda saw Jack poking his finger down his throat. Ignoring that son's disgust as well, Danny broke the silence. "I've heard all about what the rugrats have been doing today. What about you?"

Linda was just coming to the end of a story about a drunken sailor, jam, and cardboard when Frank walked through the door. He spied his grandsons asleep of their father's chest and grinned. Danny and Linda grinned back.

"I just came to give Danny his car keys." He put them in the top drawer of the cubicle beside the bed. "Jamie ended up with them, somehow." With his back to Danny, he missed the smirk that threatened to obliterate his boy's cheeks.

"You just caught us. I was about to wake the boys up so we could leave." Linda stood up and stretched.

"No need to do that." Frank went around and gathered his oldest grandson into his arms. "You take Sean, I'll take Jack. You can pick up their school stuff from mine in the morning."

"Thanks!" Linda gave Danny another kiss and lifted Sean up.

When Frank returned, Danny eyed him warily. "What did you really come back for?"

"Linda forgot to bring these clothes up." Frank dumped a plastic bag on the bed.

"Please tell me she told you what they were."

Frank's face gave nothing away as he sunk into the chair and eyed Danny speculatively.

"What? Do I have cheese in my teeth or something? Or does it have something to do with whatever you really come back for? Whatever that is? Something tell me it's not the keys, considering I'm not cleared to drive yet." He jerked his thumb at them.

"This afternoon when Mac was here, I got the feeling that you were holding something back. Doctor give you bad news?"

 _How does he do that? For once in my lifetime, just once, I'd like to be able to keep a secret from him and have him not realise I'm doing it._ "No, it's nothing like that," Danny reassured him, a flash of jealousy that Jamie had gotten one over on their father hardening his jaw.

"But?" Frank prompted.

"It may be nothing," Danny hedged.

Frank leaned forward, crossed his arms on the edge of the bed and glared at his stubborn offspring.

With a sigh, Danny capitulated. "Well, early this morning I had a visit from Tony Renzulli. You know Tony. He works with Jamie at the Twelfth?"

Frank nodded for him to continue.

"Well, while he was here I smelled something that jogged a memory from right before the explosion." Danny's eyes scrunched closed for minute, and Frank waited patiently for him to continue. "It was his cologne. When I asked him about it, he told me it was Fred's Fourteen. After he was gone I rang Dino and told him since I didn't have Mac's number. He said he'd follow it up." Danny paused for a drink of water. "Later I had a visit from Mason Dunnery, who also works at the Twelfth, and she smelt the same. I thought it was weird that a woman would be wearing a man's cologne so I commented on it. She said she was wearing Magniloquence. I did a quick Internet search on the phone Erin's loaning me until I get a new one. Apparently, their smells are very similar. If that's true they both smell, well let's just say, they both smell like caramel and sweat."

Despite the seriousness of the situation Frank laughed at both the description and Danny's failed attempt at diplomacy. Tact had never been one of his eldest boy's strengths. It seemed it still wasn't.

"I also found that Fred's Fourteen is about as low end as Magniloquence is high end." Danny continued. "Also, Fred's Fourteen is a men's cologne, and Magniloquence is a women's eau de parfum, whatever that is."

"It's just a fancy term for perfume," Frank grinned.

"Okay. Well anyway I rang Dino back and told him what had happened and what I'd found out. I specifically told him to tell Mac Jamie's mate's name, Mason Dunnery, as a potential suspect. He said that he'd follow that one up too." Danny started to fidget with the blanket that was covering his legs, and Frank shifted the pillows behind his son's head.

 _Whatever it is it must be something he really doesn't want to tell me_ , Frank thought.

"Well, he rang me back later on," Danny continued. "He told me that he'd decided to tell Mac only that I had remembered smelling something just before the explosion, and that I'd had a couple of visitors who were wearing scents that were very similar to what I'd smelled. He told Mac he'd have to talk to me if he wanted any further information. He said that he wasn't willing to mention any names, and if I wanted to throw innocent NYPD staff members under the bus I'd have to do it myself," he concluded. "I don't trust the guy, Dad. When you're tasked with making sure the investigating team has all the information they need to do their job, and find whoever did this and bring them to justice, that's exactly what you should do. He's obviously not and who knows what other evidence he's not handed over just because he didn't deem it important enough? Or because it might damage his career or his reputation?"

"I'll talk to Dino, get things straightened out," Frank assured him. "Is there anything else you need to tell me about what happened yesterday?"

Danny considered. "No."

"Good." Frank stood up and hugged Danny. "I'll see you later, then." As he strode down the hall he pulled out his phone. It didn't take him long to track down Dino and arrange a meeting. Half an hour later they stood face to face in the front yard of Dino's house.

"I thought it was best for this department," Dino defended himself. "He was asking me to specifically name two cops with spotless records as suspects. How would that have looked to the public and the press? You know how these things work! Tony Renzulli and Mason Dunnery would both have been damned from the get-go. I meant no harm by my decision, quite the opposite in fact."

"Mac Taylor's not an idiot," Frank snarled. "One word from Danny and he'll figure out that someone from the NYPD has withheld information from him. Did you think about the scandal from that if, no, make that when, the press and the public get hold of that piece of salacious gossip?"

"So tell him to keep his mouth shut!"

"Did you just ask the Police Commissioner of the New York Police Department to be complicit in evidence withholding?" Frank growled. He took a menacing step forward.

Dino paled, "I was just trying…"

"Yeah, I know." Frank said through gritted teeth. "You were trying to protect your job."

"What about Tony Renzulli?" Dino blustered. "He's been your son's Training Officer! What if Jamie gets tarred with the same tarnished brush? Have you thought about that? This could cost both you and your sons your jobs. Have you thought about that?"

"Whoever is guilty, I want them caught no matter who they are, scandals and consequences be damned!" Frank's face rose as he inhaled to the bottom of his lungs. "Now, I want you to hand over all information pertaining to this investigation to Mac Taylor immediately. You hear that? ALL! That is a direct order. If I find out you've held back anything you'll be automatically dismissed for gross insubordination."

At that point, a woman dressed in a skimpy negligee came up behind Dino and looped her arm through his and laid her head on his shoulder protectively. "Is everything alright here?"

"Yes ma'am." Frank and Dino's stares stayed locked for a moment more before Frank turned and left.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N:** Well, Dino was a very popular choice for me to include. Thanks everyone for your enthusiasm!

I needed a break from the heavy stuff. Therefore angst and fluff abound in this chapter. Enjoy! -hugs-

* * *

"Dad! Where have you been? You missed dinner! Linda said they left the hospital at seven and you were still there. Visiting hours finished at eight. It's now nearly ten! Where have you been?" The door was flung open before Frank even reached it and the barrage of words hit him like a heat wave.

"Whoa!" He held up his hands. "Jamie! What on earth?"

"Where were you?" Jamie demanded again.

"I had something to do for work. Can I come into my own house please?"

Begrudgingly, Jamie moved out of his way. "So why didn't you pick up when I rung your office line?"

Frank sighed. "I wasn't there. I had an unplanned late night meeting I had to attend. Look, I've missed dinner lots of times. It's never been a problem before."

"We've never had a mad bomber after us before either," Nicky muttered at the dining room table where she was pretending to surf the Internet.

Frank put his hand on his granddaughter's shoulder and gave her a kiss on the top of her head. When her words registered, he scowled at his son. "You told them?"

Henry stepped up and laid a hand on his grandson's back in support. "When I tried to find out why he was so frantic, he told me. The real question is: Why didn't you?"

"It's only supposition so far, there's no firm evidence to back up the rumor. I didn't tell you anything, because I don't know anything." Frank took a step forward then forced himself to stop before he did or said something he'd regret later.

"You should be a lawyer," Erin quipped. Frank brushed past them and poured himself a whiskey. Gulping deeply, he faced his fuming family, who by now were all gathered in the living room in front of him.

"Linda doesn't even know," he pointed out.

"Yes, she does."

"I'd love to be a fly on the wall for that conversation." That comment from Erin caused the children to giggle and Frank, Henry, and Jamie to all relax slightly. "Anyway, how do you know she knows?"

"After I left the hospital I went and picked up the boys and took them to the movies to give Danny a chance to tell her."

"Who told him?" Frank enquired sharply.

Jamie stared. "You didn't?" Disgusted, he peeled the tab off his beer can and flopped down on the sofa. He avoided looking at Frank, lest he give in to the temptation to make a really rude gesture with his fingers.

"See anything interesting at the movies?" Nicky, who'd followed the argument into the living room, joined him and nudged her uncle with her elbow.

"To who? The boys or me?" Nicky and Jamie both laughed and began a quiet discussion of their own as Frank brought the other adults up to speed on the investigation, swearing them to secrecy until he had a chance to talk to Danny.

"Well, now that the excitement's over, we'd better get going. Somebody conveniently 'forgot' her homework." Erin stood up and looked pointedly at Nicky.

"Night, Uncle Jamie. The slave driver calls."

When they were safely out of earshot, Henry posed a question that had been gnawing away at him all night. "So how much danger do you think we're really in?"

Frank took another sip of his whiskey. "Hard to tell when we don't know what this loony's motive is. If the attack was a whim, he may never try again and none of us are in any danger. If he wants Danny dead…" his voice trailed off, leaving his father and son in no doubt as to the seriousness of the situation. "But on a happier note, I'm hearing great things about your actions at the scene." he turned to Jamie with a proud smile.

Jamie glowered and slapped his hands down on the sofa cushion fiercely and audibly as he pushed himself up. "There's been nothing "happy" about today," he ground out. "I'm exhausted. I'm going to bed. Night, Pop."

Henry glanced at Frank for help in how he should react. Getting none, he bid his grandson a good night and Jamie went upstairs.

"What was that about?" Frank watched the upstairs landing as if Jamie would suddenly materialise and explain himself. When he didn't appear and Frank didn't answer, Frank downed the last of his drink. "There's only one way to find out."

Jamie was coming out of the bathroom when he saw Frank standing in front of his bedroom door with his hands folded across his chest.

"You want to explain yourself?"

"To you? No thanks." Giving his bedroom up as a lost cause, Jamie crossed the hall to Danny's childhood room. He reached behind him to slam the door shut but Frank's foot in the door blocked him.

Frank studied the rigid back and wondered when this day would ever end. After Jamie had crawled into bed Frank perched on the edge of the bed next to him. Jamie immediately rolled over to face the wall.

"Come on, Son." When Jamie shied away from the hand Frank tried to run through his hair, Frank's concern trebled. He put a firm hand on the boy's shoulder and pulled Jamie over onto his back. His trebled concern sextupled again as Jamie's brimming eyes spilled over and a tear trickled down each cheek. Frank thumbed them away. "Jamie?"

"All it would have taken was a two-minute phone call. Or, if you were too busy for that, a twenty second text." Jamie tried to shift his head away. When his attempt was thwarted he looked past his father instead.

 _Sometimes the only way to get what you want out of someone is to give them what they want._ Frank didn't know where or when he'd heard that sage piece of advice, but he decided that now was as good a time as any to follow it. "You're right. It would have. I'm sorry I scared you." He rubbed his fingertips along his boy's shoulder but it didn't relax. "Jamie, please believe me, Son. I am sorry."

Jamie mumbled something and Frank bent forward in time to hear his son's words. "I don't need to talk about it. I don't need to talk about it."

 _Just who are you trying convince?_ "Since when has that ever stopped you?" It was meant as a light hearted jest to break the tension, but Jamie's reaction did everything but amuse Frank. He dropped further into the pillows as if he'd been felled by an axe, his breath sped up, and his eyes crumpled shut.

"It's my fault. It's all my fault. But I don't need to talk about it. I can't risk it."

 _Can't risk what?_ Frank's brow furrowed, but he let his thumb rubbing the back of Jamie's hand speak for him. Slowly Jamie's breath returned to normal and his eyes opened. He parted his lips but Frank dragged him upright before any words came out. Jamie shuffled around and settled himself comfortably.

"Let me guess, you're not leaving until I explain myself."

Frank's eyebrow rose slightly and Jamie's lips twitched.

"Yeah, thought so. Just promise me you'll hear me out before you start protesting and telling me I'm wrong." He got a nod in reply, so he continued. "I can't keep my mouth shut, right? You said that yourself. And Danny's put so much effort into our relationship lately, he can read me a lot more accurately than he could even a few months ago. So when I ring him just because I'm having a bad day, even though I'm laughing and joking around he figures it out pretty quickly. He's still trying to prove his loyalty to me, still trying to convince me I'm important to him. So when I ask him to meet me for lunch, he doesn't feel he has a choice. He's in that hospital bed just because I wanted someone else to pull me out of my own pity party." Jamie picked up a book off the bedside table and threw it at the door. It connected and fell onto the carpet with a dull thump. "Our whole family is in danger just because I didn't tell Danny ages ago that I knew how much I meant to him. I've known for ages and I said nothing! This whole thing happened because I'm a stupid idiot who doesn't know when to shut my mouth!"

By now, Jamie's voice had risen to a howl and Frank acted quickly to stop the meltdown in its tracks. He leant over, pushed Jamie onto his side and spanked his butt twice. Even though it was over the covers, it was enough that when Frank let Jamie sit up again, there were tears in his eyes for the second time that night.

Frank cupped a hand around the side of Jamie's neck and smiled tenderly. "You are NOT stupid and you are NOT an idiot," he chastised. "Now, continue, but can the insults."

Jamie sniffed. "I'm finished."

Tilting Jamie's face so their eyes met, Frank was convinced of the veracity of the statement so he began his reply. "Can't fault your logic."

"Huh. Way to go!" Jamie snorted. "Great pep talk, Dad. Thanks!"

"You're welcome. Now you get to listen to my logic."

Obediently, Jamie crossed his arms and legs and leaned forward like an attentive schoolboy.

Frank hid a smile at Jamie's presumption that he was in for a long lecture. "A crime can't be committed if there's no criminal present to commit it. True?"

"True."

As the silence lengthened, Jamie's eyes widened. "Wait a sec. Are you saying I'm as much to blame as the bomber?"

"No!" the contradiction was sharp and immediate. "What I'm saying is that this madman, whoever they are, is completely one hundred percent to blame. Sure, Danny wouldn't have been hurt if he wasn't there. But even more important, _nobody_ would have been hurt if the crime hadn't been committed. No bomber, no bomb. No bomber, no injuries. No bomber, no hospital. No bomber, no danger." He ticked off every point as he made it.

Seeing his baby relaxing, Frank stood up and laid his hand on Jamie's shoulder. "And for the record, there have been plenty of times when you've been very good at keeping your mouth shut."

Jamie smiled tiredly. "Night, Dad."

Frank pressed a kiss into Jamie's hair. "Night, Son." He walked toward the door. "Oh, by the way, good luck at work tomorrow."

"Ha!" Jamie snorted. "Shoulda known you'd find out."

"I'm your Dad. I know everything."


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N:** I love that there was such a variety of opinions over Jamie's actions in the last chapter. It just proves that everyone gets something just a little bit different from the story I'm writing. I think it's awesome that one story can be interpreted so many different ways!

* * *

"Mr Daniel Reagan?" A friendly face peeked around the door.

"That's me." Sitting up, Danny beckoned her in. "Call me Danny."

"Hi Danny, I'm Irene. These were just delivered for you." She held up a large arrangement of dark coloured flowers: deep purples, burgundy reds, and navy blues. "Where should I put them?"

 _Not another bunch of flowers! And by far the ugliest and most depressing bunch I've got so far. I thought they were supposed to make me feel better not worse!_ "Thank you very much," he enthused. "The window sill will be fine, thanks."

Irene plucked a small envelope out of the middle of the arrangement and passed it over.

Danny pulled a piece of white card out and froze when he read the words WITH MY GREATEST SYMPATHIES FOR THE LOSS THAT YOU AND YOUR FAMILY HAVE SUFFERED. NEVER FEAR, I WILL BE WATCHING OVER YOU, AND THEM.

"Irene," he called urgently, "where did these come from?"

"I don't know." Puzzled, Irene turned from where she had been gazing out the window. "Sorry, I'm just a volunteer here. I deliver things throughout the hospital. I got a call about twenty minutes ago that there was a delivery for the patient in this room. I guess that's you. They were at the desk when I got there. I don't get told where the things I pick up come from, only where they have to go to, and I don't ask any questions. Why? Is there a problem?"

Danny lifted his hand in an attempt to calm her. "I just want to compliment the florist on their unique floral arrangement abilities, that's all."

"Sorry I can't help," Irene apologised as she tied up the bag of rubbish she'd removed from the holder behind the door.

"No worries," Danny assured her. "What's your last name? I'd love to be able to commend you to the Volunteer Supervisor, if you don't mind."

She blushed. "Cooper. Irene Cooper. And you're very welcome. I'm just doing my job, though."

"And doing it very well too, I must say," Danny complimented her with a charming smile.

When she was gone, he pulled out his phone. "Hi, Jamie. Where are you? I thought you might be, you idiot. You're supposed to be resting, not working. Anyway, since you're there, is Eddie around? I need to talk to her." A few seconds later, a whole new conversation started. "Hi Eddie. I need you to come see me ASAP, preferably with someone from the Crime Lab, if you can. Make some excuse. I don't want Jamie to know. Ring me back? Thanks."

He hung up the phone and read the card again and again. He tried to convince himself that it was innocent, just someone's sick idea of a joke, maybe a delivery to a wrong room or a wrong patient or at a wrong time. But he failed miserably. He needed to know for sure. He needed to be certain that his family was safe from this whacko.

Not long after, Jamie and Eddie arrived, with another man in tow. "What's up, bro?" Jamie asked, fiddling with his sleeve. Danny turned to Eddie with his eyebrow raised.

"He wouldn't leave me alone," she complained, only half serious.

"Try being his brother," Danny quipped

"Have we come here for a reason or just for a session of Let's Pick On Jamie?" Jamie pouted.

"I think we can do both," Danny teased his younger brother, before turning to the stranger in the room. He held out his hand. "Hi, I'm Danny Reagan. Ignore him, he's just here for decoration." He nudged his head in Jamie's direction. Jamie retaliated by sticking out his tongue.

"Adam Ross, Crime Lab." Adam went and inspected the display on the window sill. "That's a very unusual array of flowers. Where did they come from?"

"Tell you in a minute. Jamie, what would you do if I wrestled you to the ground, tied you up, and put you in the corner with earmuffs on?" He asked his brother.

"I'd give you another reason to visit the Accident and Emergency Department, and this time they wouldn't end up operating on you front and up, if you get my drift," Jamie replied.

Danny nodded and turned back to Adam. "They were delivered by a volunteer named Irene Cooper. She told me she got a call to pick it up from "the desk", wherever that is. She didn't ask any questions, never does. It's just her job to pick up whatever needs to be delivered and deliver it, she said. It's the contents of this card that accompanied it that concerns me." He passed it to Adam who quickly put on a pair of gloves from the dispenser over the sink before taking the card, being careful to handle it only by the edges.

Adam, Jamie and Eddie silently read the message.

"Maybe you can take it at face value. Maybe it's just someone who is expressing their sympathy at your injury and the changes it's going to force on you and your family, and reassuring you that they are there to support you," Adam suggested.

"That's what I'm hoping," Danny said.

"But you doubt it," Jamie finished his brother's sentence for him. Danny grimaced.

"I wish I'd known to bring my kit," Adam commented.

"Sorry," Danny apologised. "Not exactly thinking straight right now."

Adam shrugged. "I'm sure we can improvise without undermining our case. Unless you'd rather I go back and get it."

Danny shook his head. "Just do it."

"Okay," Eddie pulled on her own pair of gloves out of the dispenser. "What we need to take, Adam?"

Adam surveyed the room. "The flower arrangement, the card, the envelope,". He carefully picked up the basket of flowers, and Eddie picked up the card and envelope "Nice to meet you, Danny. I'll let you know what we find out as soon as I can, I promise."

"I think I'll just stay here." Jamie commented casually. He backed up his statement by sitting in the chair by Danny's bed.

Danny rolled his eyes but acquiesced and shooed the others away. "Don't worry. I won't hurt him, much. He's my ticket to decent food."

Eddie snorted as they disappeared out of the door.

"I think I might just take a walk and see if I can find out anything." Jamie stood up.

"You do know that you can't actively investigate this?"

"I'll just take a look around and see what I can find out, so Eddie knows which direction to go in later on," Jamie defended himself. He escaped before Danny replied, but he still heard the words his brother shouted after him.

"And buy me lunch."

Jamie aimlessly wandered the halls of the ward, keeping his eyes wide open for anything of interest. Seeing nothing, he headed to the nurses' station. But then he remembered what Danny had said, that Irene had got the flowers from "the desk, wherever that is". _The front desk in the lobby is as good a place to start as any._ So he turned around and headed there instead, stopping off at a mobile food cart on the way.

He was in the elevator when it stopped on the floor below and a woman got in. "Trixie!" Jamie greeted her in a surprised voice. "What are you doing here?"

"The paramedic got it wrong," exclaimed the woman that Jamie had met at the crime scene. "Alistair was having a stroke! I'm thinking of pressing charges against him."

Jamie was shocked. He'd been sure it was a heart attack. "I'm very sorry to hear that. I hope he recovers soon."

By this time the elevator had arrived at the lobby. With another comforting word to Trixie, he got out and headed to the desk. "Hi, I'm Jamie Reagan. My brother got delivered a bunch of flowers earlier and he'd really like to thank the sender. But the card had no name on it. Can you help me? He recited the room number and waited hopefully.

The receptionist tapped a few keys. "That delivery came via a bike messenger. He signed in as Emmet K. Elbourne of Round Direct Ltd." She wrote the details of the delivery on a sheet of paper and handed it to Jamie. "Your brother should be able to use these details to track down the sender."

"Jamie! What are you doing here?"

Jamie blushed furiously as he thanked the woman behind the desk and palmed the paper. Guiltily, he turned to face his father.

"Dad! What are you doing here? Have you got news?" Jamie steered Frank to the elevator door.

"You're avoiding my question."

"And you're avoiding mine."

Frank threw up his hands. "You'll keep."

Jamie stepped into the elevator. "Not as long as you!"

"Is there a break on the case?" Danny was excited to see his father so early in the day. _It must be good news!_

"Hi, Son. You doing okay?" Frank frowned at Danny's "so so" gesture.

"Depends what you tell me," Danny hedged.

"Mac will be joining us momentarily," Frank informed him. "He's going to give us all an update on the investigation." He shrugged. "I couldn't be bothered being the relay station. And I thought you'd appreciate being involved where you can."

"Oh." Danny frowned. "So you weren't looking for a reason to see your most handsome son then."

"Someone call me?" Jamie enquired, stepping out from behind his father and waving a bag enticingly.

Danny sniffed and swallowed before speaking, "Is that what I think it is?"

"Depends what you think it is." Jamie stepped closer. Danny grabbed for the bag but Jamie stopped just outside his reach. Danny grabbed again and glared at his laughing brother as the food swung tantalisingly close.

Danny made one more unsuccessful attempt. "Ouch!" He clutched at his side.

"Danny! Are you alright?" Jamie moved to his brother's side.

"Ha! Got it!" Danny leant back and held his prize high and triumphant.

Frank's lips twitched.

"Brothers!" An amused sigh heralded the arrival of another visitor and Jamie spun around at the sound.

"Hi Mac, thanks for coming." Frank started to get up but Mac waved him back.

"If the two of you can keep your hands off each other long enough for me to give you an update on the investigation, it'd be appreciated," Mac addressed the boys dryly.

Frank grinned, and the boys blushed. Handshakes were exchanged all around and everyone found a place to sit.

"First things first. We have witness reports that suggest you were deliberately targeted. So your father and I agree that you will be under twenty-four-hour guard for the foreseeable future."

Danny sat up straight. "Is that the "friendly young man in the hall" my son met last night?"

"Very likely," Mac affirmed.

"And you found this out when?"

Mac and Frank exchanged an uncomfortable look.

"When?" Danny thundered.

"A rumour surfaced yesterday," Frank admitted.

"And you didn't think to tell me then because why?" Danny accused Frank.

"I'm sorry. I completely forgot about it," Frank admitted, shamefacedly.

"You _forgot_ to tell me someone was trying to kill me?" Danny screamed.

His father opened his mouth but Danny didn't give him time to say anything. "You've known for over twenty-four hours that my family is in danger and all you can say is that you _forgot_?" He stood up, but he only got one step before Jamie was in front of him. "Get out of my way," he snarled. "I'm going to kill him."

"Which is exactly why I'm not moving," Jamie caught the am that was coming to push him out of the way. "Get back in bed so we can get this meeting over with and Mac can get back to what he's best at: finding this whacko."

Danny conceded the point. "Fine, but he leaves," he spat as he covered himself with the sheet.

"Not going to happen. You and I aren't supposed to have anything to do with this investigation." Jamie folded his arms. "So you have two choices, buddy boy. Suck it up and listen, or we all leave."

Danny turned his back on his father and brother. "My family?"

"We'll take care of them," Frank said softly.

Danny looked at Mac imploringly. _That's not enough and you know it,_ his eye pleaded. "Can't you do something?"

"Does this have anything to do with the "few suspected but unsubstantiated instances of property tampering" you reported to Mac?"

"What else have you got?" The bed creaked as Danny shifted his weight and ignored his father.

Trying to ignore the tension, Mac handed Frank a sheaf of papers. "DNA match on gum found near the scene, but the man was getting married at the time of the attack. None of the witnesses gave a description of the driver or any passengers. The explosion was ineffective partly because the wick was moist. Adam's running particulate and chemical composition tests to see if anything pops that could narrow down our search area. The rope was a generic brand made before the formula changed three years ago. Also the proportion of non-flammables in the explosive was too high for the bomb to ever have been effective if death was the motive. Lastly, remnants of anti-anxiety medication in a pile of vomit."

"So they may try again?" Jamie got up and started pacing around. "Sorry." He apologised as he barged into Mac.

"The bomber was definitely an amateur." Danny thumped his pillow in frustration. "Do you have anything useful?"

"Everything's in your Dad's reports."

"I'll need a copy."

Jamie reached out to the call button. "Not until you've had pain meds and a sleep, you won't."

Danny reached out and grasped his wrist. "I just need a change of scenery, that's all. Your shift's over, isn't it? Go find me a wheelchair."

"Yeah, yeah, rub it in that you're a man of leisure, while us old men have to get our noses back to the grindstone," Mac complained as he repacked his briefcase and said his goodbyes.

When Jamie returned, Frank also left, but not without a word of advice, or maybe it was an entreaty, for Jamie. "Take care of him, okay?"


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N:** Welcome to all the new readers, reviewers, and favoriters! Thanks for everyone for continuing your great encouragement -hugs-

* * *

"This better not be a set up," Jamie warned. "You better not have a pretty girl waiting for me."

"Don't worry. She's ugly." Danny whirled around and wheeled himself out the door before Jamie had a chance to answer.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" Jamie waved something in his peripheral vision. "A pair of extremely ugly and enormous dark grey sunglasses, maybe?"

"Actually they're hospital issued Fit Overs, specifically designed to not dislodge my plastic eye shield," Danny corrected. "Give them to me once we're outside. In the meantime, keep them in your pocket and out of sight, cause you're right, they're the ugliest thing this side of the black stump!"

"The back stump? Where's that?"

"Not sure. One of the candy stripers says it all the time. She comes from New Zealand. I think "this side of the black stump" means "anywhere and everywhere". But that's just a guess."

Once they reached the elevators Danny allowed Jamie to take over propelling the wheelchair. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath against a sudden attack of vertigo. _I don't need to vomit and get sent back to bed. What I need is to get outside and feel the sun on my face and breeze on my skin._

"Danny, are you alright?" Jamie asked in concern. When his brother didn't answer, he carefully manoeuvred the wheelchair around so he could see his brother's face. He didn't like what he saw. Danny's face was a sickly white and his lifeless eyes were staring straight ahead. His jaw was firm and his breathing was shallow and ragged. His chest was barely moving and he was steadfastly gazing down toward the floor in front of him. Jamie gently put his hands in Danny's. At least he thought it was gentle.

"Aaaaaah!" Danny screamed, hit Jamie in the face, and tried to stand up.

It took some considerable effort for Jamie to grab Danny's shoulders and force him back into the wheelchair. How he wished it had a seatbelt so he could restrain his brother; not for his safety but for Danny's. He was also glad they were alone in the elevator. He would be hard pressed to explain the behaviour he was seeing when he didn't understand it himself. Danny had never freaked out in an elevator before, and since he'd been the one to request the outing Jamie was at a complete loss for a starting point that he could use to figure out what was happening or why.

He got increasingly worried when Danny seemed to be completely unable to settle down, and he was just about to hit the emergency button when the elevator opened. He hurriedly wheeled Danny out into the garden. "Breathe. Danny, breathe!" he urged as he knelt beside the wheelchair and rubbed his brother's back.

Slowly Danny came out of his stupor. His face regained its colour. His shoulders relaxed, and slowly all the rest of the muscles in his body followed suit. Best of all, he lifted his face and looked around, searching for someone or something. He moved to where he knew Danny would be able to see him.

"I'm right here."

Danny lifted his face. "Hi," he said softly. Then he looked around, seeming to realise for the first time where they were. "How did we get out here?"

"What do you remember last?" Jamie asked.

"Getting into the elevator," Danny said. "After that it was pitch black and I couldn't move. I was trapped and had to get out of there. Something was blocking me, so I tried to move it. What happened to me?" he whimpered.

"I'm not sure," Jamie admitted. He took a bottle of water out of the bag he had slung over the back of the wheelchair before they had left the ward. "Want a drink?" he offered, unscrewing the lid and holding the bottle out.

"Only if it is something much stronger than water," Danny grumped.

"Sorry, not today," Jamie replied. "Not with the meds you are on." _And not until we find out what's going on inside your head_.

Danny licked his lips and coughed, trying vainly to bring some saliva to his mouth. When his mouth remained as dry as a piece of sandpaper, he had to admit total defeat, so he snatched the bottle from his brother's hand. Taking a long swig, he tried once again to bring saliva back into his mouth once the water had disappeared from his throat. This time, there as a little bit. Shakily, he brought the bottle back up to his lips. Seeing his struggle, Jamie gently and unobtrusively put his fingers under the bottom of the bottle and held it to Danny's lips.

"Thanks," Danny whispered after he had finished taking a long drink.

Jamie realised he actually didn't know what to do next. He wasn't in any danger. That was true. But Danny's freak out concerned him greatly. How were they going to get him back to the room? More importantly, how were they going to prevent it happening again? He took a deep breath and began where he always began when questioning a witness. "First question, do you remember anything at all of the elevator ride?"

"Headache, ringing in both of my ears, a feeling like the whole elevator was pushing down on me, and that the ground was disappearing from underneath me." Danny gripped the armrests until his knuckled turned white. "My chest felt like it was being crushed and the air was really hot and thick. It was extremely hard to breathe, and I couldn't see anything."

"Okay, that's great." _At least he remembers something,_ Jamie thought. He smiled encouragingly. "Now, did these symptoms go away after you got outside?"

"Most of them disappeared as soon as I realised we were outside," Danny reported. "And that was pretty much straight away because I remember hearing the self-opening door open, and then I felt the breeze and the sun on my face."

"I think you might have had a flashback," Jamie suggested.

"Don't you talk to me about flashbacks!" Danny hissed. "You have no idea what they're like."

"I'll talk to you about whatever I damn well please if it gets you better!" Jamie rubbed the back of Danny's hand. "And I know exactly what it's like. I was in that building too, remember? I was in there when the bomb went off, and I went back in there when it was still on fire!"

"Why would you do that?"

"Because there were still people trapped inside!" Jamie stood up.

"You went back in to rescue people?"

"Why are you so surprised? What you think I'm a coward? That I'd let people die rather than put myself in danger? Or is it that you think you have the monopoly on rashness in this family?" Jamie resisted the urge to overturn the wheelchair.

"Rash is only rash if it's rash." Danny quoted one of his old Marine buddies. He squeezed Jamie's hand and held it. "And saving people is never rash. I'm proud of you. But, really? You've had flashbacks?"

"What? You think you've got the monopoly on that, too?" Jamie's voice was no longer outraged. It was calm and questioning.

"You should talk to someone."

"I could talk to Linda when she gets here."

"No! Absolutely not!" Danny's vehemence took Jamie by surprise. He stood up and crossed his arms.

"You can't stop me talking to whoever I want."

"Just not Linda. It's my fault they're in danger. I won't put any more strain on them, do you hear me? And neither will you." Danny bit his lip as his head began to throb and a headache, one that he just realised wasn't new, began to pound and assault the inside of his skull. The need to vomit that had been present earlier in the elevator returned with a vengeance. He swallowed thickly and desperately. "That's right. We'll be fine. We'll just talk to each other. We don't need to involve Linda. Besides, it might not have been a flashback. It might have been a reaction to stress. Finding out you've been deliberately targeted by a bomber, you've been under police guard for twenty four hours and your own father didn't think it was important enough to tell you? That'd do it, I reckon!"

"Give him a break! He's had a lot on his mind." Seeing Danny start to close down, he decided to let the matter drop. For now. "Are you hungry?"

Danny shook his head slightly.

"Need to go back inside?"

"Not yet," Danny whispered.

"Okay." He passed Danny his sunglasses. "I'm just going to move us over there by the bench under the tree." Jamie unlocked the brakes and began the short journey over the bumpy terrain. "Then we can relax for a while until you're ready to go back inside."

"Relaxing sounds good," Danny agreed. Under the tree, thankful for the quiet, Danny swiftly fell asleep. When he awoke, Linda, Sean and Jack had joined them. He straightened up so quickly his sunglasses fell off. "Sorry, I must have been asleep for a while. How long have you guys been here?" He looked over to his boys.

Jack was slouched on a picnic blanket reading, and Jamie was supervising Sean. They were kneeling on pillows on the ground and had commandeered the bench and was writing furiously.

 _Something's wrong with this picture. Sean's being far too quiet for my liking._ "Sean. Are you okay, bud?" The sound of paper ripping clued Danny onto just how tense his younger son was. "Sean?"

Sean stared at the hole in his homework. "I thought you were coming home tonight," he mumbled.

"We saw the nurse on the way in. Dr Rathbone was sent to another hospital today, so she won't be able to see you until tomorrow," Linda explained.

"But why does she need to see you again? Why couldn't she send someone else?" Sean insisted. "Does she think there's still something wrong with you?"

"What do you think?" Danny manoeuvred himself behind Sean and laid a hand on his younger boy's head.

Sean shrugged.

"Sean." Danny tilted the boys head back and looked him in the eye.

Wrestling his head away, Sean dug his finger up his nostril, avoiding Linda's gaze when she handed him a tissue. "I dunno. First they tell us you're really badly hurt, then they tell us you're fine. Then they tell us you're going to be in hospital for two nights, now you're staying for a third. I don't know what to think!" He scrubbed at his wet eyes.

"You're the nurse." Danny mouthed the words to his wife, so she knelt between them.

"You know what a precaution is, don't you?"

Sean nodded, but it was Jack who answered. "It's like how Dad always carries a gun with him when he's at work so he's ready when he meets the bad guys."

"That's right." Linda tickled Sean's side, and his parents smiled when he let out a low giggle. "It's the same for us. When people come into the ER, the doctors always tell their families everything they think might be wrong so the families are ready for the worst. That way the families get very few bad surprises and lots of good ones. Just like we have."

"So the doctors give out bad news for the same reason Dad carries a gun, to protect us from something really awful happening that we don't expect." Sean clicked his fingers and climbed up on his Dad's lap.

Danny ruffled Sean's hair. "That's right."

"But you said he was brought in wit of 8," Jack reminded his Mom. " that low usually denotes severe disability, doesn't it?"

" is an observation tool, not a diagnostic one. A person could be brought in wit of 5 which is technically a coma. Ten minutes later, they could be waking up and hav of 11. After a night in hospital, they might be discharged, fit and healthy with a ful of 15. I'm not saying it's common, but it does happen."

Jack must have looked undecided because Jamie weighed into the debate. "Would you rather they'd sent him home and he'd died because they missed something?"

Jack shook his head so hard he got dizzy. Danny leaned forward and pulled the boy to him. "Me neither."

Linda motioned to Jamie, who pulled a large picnic hamper toward him. He opened it and started pulling out plates and cutlery.

"Anyone hungry?"

Sean and Jack scrambled to surround the basket like vultures around a fresh carcass.

"I'm starving." Danny asked Linda to shift him around to face the group. "So, how was school, boys?"

Twin groans told him all they needed to know but he pressed them for details. As they unhurriedly ate their way through roast chicken, four vegetable medley, potato salad, and garlic bread followed by self saucing chocolate pudding and cream, he heard about Jack's B grade in his history test and Sean's playground scrap that almost had him in detention.

"But I stopped myself from hitting him," he stated proudly.

"Good on you," Linda praised. She then volunteered a story herself about a man she met at the seafood bar of a local delicatessen who tried to sell her a pair of hamadryas baboons from the Prospect Park Zoo.

"Oh my goodness!" Danny held his stomach as he tried to check his laughter. The others had only marginally more success than he did.

When he regained his equilibrium, Jamie poured coffee for the adults and milk for the children.

"Time to go, boys." Linda shooed everyone of the picnic blanket so she could fold it up.

Still chattering happily, Jack and Sean took one wheelchair handle each and pushed their father out to their car. Danny said goodbye to his family and watched them drive off.

"You ready to do this?" Jamie asked gently as they went inside and approached the elevators.

Danny took a deep breath. "Let's do this."

Jamie made sure to keep in his brother's line of sight. The trip passed uneventfully and Danny was soon tucked up in bed.

"Thanks for not saying anything to Linda."

Jamie pursed his lips. "I'll see you tomorrow."


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N:** I'm glad you all liked the Jamie/Danny dynamics in the last chapter. Sorry for not posting yesterday. I got busy building a 3D model for this story's sequel, and by the time I remembered I was in bed and my computer was shut off.

* * *

Feeling much more relaxed, Jamie came out of the shower stall at the station just as his partner for the shift appeared from the other direction.

"Finally managed to get clean, huh, Erik?" Jamie asked as he walked over to his locker.

"That was some gnarly shit, wasn't it?" Erik enthused. "You'd think that if they could afford a condo like that they'd be able to afford a cleaner! I wonder how anybody even realised that a burglary had been committed?"

"The ransacked safe and broken door might have been a sign," Jamie said drily.

"Still. It sounded like the super was happy he had a reason to start eviction proceedings. According to him, the mess was normal."

"It wasn't that grisly, considering." Jamie tucked his shirt in and pocketed his badge and wallet.

"You've seen worse?" Erik shuddered.

"Multiple murder suicide. Blood, entrails, hair, skin, and brain matter as well as dirt, paint, dust, rotting food, mould, and lots of other stuff I couldn't define. That particular one room slaughterhouse looked and smelled more like an abattoir than an apartment that had been home to seven people, three of them children and all of them now dead."

"Gross." Erik turned back to his clothes, and that was when Jamie saw something drawn on the back of his shoulder.

"That's an interesting choice for a tat" he commented curiously.

"It's the Chinese symbol for crisis. The one on the left says "wei", which means "danger". The other one says "ji", and it's the sign for "opportunity." Out of danger comes opportunity."

"And the arrow?"

"What arrow?" Erik turned his back to the mirror and pulled his shoulder forward trying to see what Jamie was talking about.

"Here." Jamie lightly touched Erik on his back just below the almost imperceptible mark below the main tattoo. He was almost knocked to the ground as Erik whirled around.

"What are you? A perv?" he snarled. "Like touching men, do you? Going to report me for having non-regulation body decorations are you? Well, I can report you for sexual harassment because of what you did! So you'd better just leave me alone, you hear?"

"I hear," Jamie soothed him, putting his hands up in a surrender gesture. "No worries. I was just interested, that's all."

"Well, go be interested somewhere else!" Erik snarled as he stormed out.

Since the shift was only half over, Jamie followed him to a café just around the corner.

After paying for his coffee, Jamie picked up his tray of food, breathing in the salivating aroma of "Burger and Fries with the works, please." He looked around. _Time to make nice, or this afternoon's shift is going to be really uncomfortable!_

"Wait a minute, Erik!"

Erik put his lunch down on the café table beside him, then turned towards Jamie and waved him over. "Hey, what's up?"

"We good? I can switch back to Eddie, and you can ride with Caelson if you want."

Erik looked puzzled. "Of course, we're good. Why shouldn't we be? You going to sit down?"

 _I can think of a lot of reasons,_ Jamie thought as he placed his tray down on the table and sat.

"I'd rather work with you than Caelson any day of the week, and nine ways on Sunday." Erik grimaced. "Anyway, not to change the subject of that idiot or anything, but you never did tell me why you were so interested in the arrow on my back," Erik said through a mouthful of food. "Isn't it supposed to be there, or something?"

Jamie hesitated. He didn't want to precipitate another scene. But then again, maybe he shouldn't have touched Erik on the back without warning him first. After all, he didn't know the man that well. So maybe what happened was his fault after all. And they were eating in public. He decided to take the risk. What was the worst that could happen? "No, it's not supposed to be there," he admitted before taking a bite of his burger.

"Then that tattoo artist has some very important questions to answer, the first of which is: what's it doing there?" Erik said.

Jamie observed his partner while he swallowed. "Is that a rhetorical question, or do you really want to know?"

"I really want to know."

Jamie shifted his weight forward and put his elbows on the table. _It's a good thing neither Mom nor Grandma Betty are here,_ he mused distractedly. _I'd be in big trouble._ "I could hazard a good guess if you're absolutely sure you really want to know?" Jamie probed.

"It's my body! If someone's pulled a fast one on me, I definitely want to know," Erik snarled.

"Well, your tattoo definitely could say "wei ji." The problem," Jamie explained, "is that, to the untrained ear, there are multiple words in Chinese that sound like they're pronounced "wei", and also multiple words that sound like they're pronounced "ji." He paused and took a drink. "Did you give the tattoo artist anything written to refer to?"

Erik shook his head miserably. "So what do these ones actually say?"

"Well, in this case, "wei" means "location" and "ji" means "spine". So, along with the arrow which points to the middle of your back, your tattoo actually says "This is the location of my spine."

Erik glared. "Are you fu… sorry, I mean are you absolutely sure?"

Jamie nodded and smiled sympathetically. "Sorry, bud."

"Oh, it's not your fault." Erik wrinkled his nose. "We're cool." He stood up and stretched. "Can we go now?"

Just then Mason appeared. "Hi guys. Captain Mollie just rang. He needs Jamie and me back at the Precinct. Erik, you're to stay here and wait for Caelson."

"Okay. See you later, Erik." Jamie followed Mason toward a side door, dropping his uneaten food into a bin on the way, and pulling his phone out. At that moment a group of four youths dressed in the garb of a local street gang walked toward him. He quickly put away his phone and placed his hand on his gun instead. The quartet grinned and waved as they stopped in front of him and, to his amazement, embarked on a remarkable rendition of an old Irish folk tune that took Jamie straight back to his four-year-old self, being cuddled by Grandma Betty and lulled back to sleep by her melodious voice. There was sweetness in the memory, and Jamie paused to savor it.

It took him nearly half a verse to realise the group were making their own music without an instrument in sight. It took him nearly a whole verse more to remember where he was and why. As he walked quickly to the car, he pulled out his phone again.


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N:** Hopefully, this chapter will answer all your questions! Hold onto your hats, there's trouble abrewing!

* * *

"That was Erin."

"What did she want?" Danny folded the pair of trousers that was in his hands in half and stuffed them in his suitcase.

With a sigh, Linda took them out and refolded them. "She wanted to know whether we were having a family dinner at Frank's tonight."

"Did you tell her it's only Thursday?" Danny snorted.

"Nope."

"What did you tell her then?"

" I told her that I'd ask you," Linda answered smugly.

"No fair!" Danny pouted. "You always make me be the bad boy."

"That's because you play the part so well." Linda slapped her husband playfully on his rear. "And you're no better! You're always making me out to be the wicked witch."

"That's because you are a wicked witch."

Linda came over and draped her arms around his shoulders. "So I guess the family dinner's out, then," she said seriously while pressing her mouth against her husband's ear.

"And you get to tell Erin," he gloated evilly, reluctantly giving in to the wheelchair ride to the car.

Linda dropped the subject until they were stalled at a traffic jam. She pulled her phone out of her shirt pocket. "Nope. You get to tell Erin. I'm driving." She planted her foot on the gas pedal as the line of cars started moving.

Danny stuck his tongue out but was unable to retaliate further when Erin answered. He was busy for the rest of the journey trying to convince her that he, Linda and their boys needed to have at least one night alone as a family.

"I've got to go," he insisted finally and shut the phone. "What a beautiful sight. I can't believe I'm home."

Linda smiled too. "It's been a long time," she said.

"Actually, it's been less than a week," Danny reminded her.

"Well, it seems like forever," Linda said. "Let's get inside."

Danny slowly hopped out of the car. He carefully felt for the driveway beneath his feet before putting all his weight on his legs. Once he was sure he had his balance, he hoisted himself up into a standing position. He turned to Linda. "Have you got the house key?" he asked.

"Yes, and I'm going to keep them," Linda declared.

"Hey I'm not useless. I can open the front door!" Danny put his arms out to catch his wife as she went past him. She dodged his grasp and danced away, giggling.

"You want them, you come and get them," she taunted. Danny ran after her and clutched at the keys.

"Damn useless eyeless concussion." He swore as he swooped too low with his hand.

Linda laughed. "You just don't want to admit that your wife can outrun you!" she teased, turning around and waving the key ring in front Danny's face like a red rag to a bull. With a roar, Danny changed his strategy and simply grabbed his wife around the waist and pushed her to the ground under him. Giggling, she put her arm up in the air and waved it around trying to keep the keys from her husband. Again, Danny changed his strategy.

"I love you, Mrs. Reagan," he said and he kissed her on the lips. Linda relaxed as the kiss deepened, and as she did her arms came down around his neck and he simply put his hand up and grabbed the keys from her. "Thank you!" he said gleefully and with a triumphant cheer he jumped up and raced to the front door.

Linda scrambled up and raced after her husband. "Traitor!" she yelled, or more precisely, tried to yell in amongst her puffing and giggling, so it came out more like 'ray or'.

"What's this?" Danny asked, his eyes gleaming. He held up a DVD for his wife to see. She could see it had "Watch Me Immediately" written on it in black permanent marker. He raised an eyebrow flirtingly. "Our wedding night?"

"Daniel!" She remonstrated, playfully swatting him. "Though it could be I suppose. But I hope not, because that would mean someone else besides you and me has seen it, and we certainly wouldn't want that, would we?" she said sweetly.

Danny blushed. "No, we don't." He looked at his wife and then at the DVD and back to his wife again. "Well, if you didn't put it there, who did?"

"One way to find out." Linda plucked it, and the keys, out of his hand and opened the front door. She stepped inside and dropped the keys onto the small table that was in the corner of the hall. She turned around and looped her arms around her husband's neck. "Welcome home, handsome."

Danny pulled his wife close. "It's good to be back," he murmured before he drew back. "Now, I'm really curious. Let's see what's on this thing." He examined the bag that the DVD had come in." No clues here. Where's my laptop?"

"You go into the kitchen and put the coffee on. I'll go and get it for you." Linda disappeared upstairs. Danny paused, in half a mind to follow her. There were alone for the first time in their own home in nearly a week, after all. Then his imagination got the best of him and he decided not to.

He meandered on, taking in every sight he was afraid he'd never see again. He paused at the photos of his late mother and brother. "I'm home," he whispered. "It's good to see you again."

He moved into the kitchen and flicked on the coffee percolator. Then he pulled down two cups and opened the cupboard to pull out the cookie jar. Finding a packet of his favourites he stuck two in his mouth before putting some in a circle on a plate. He chewed them slowly as he got out the milk and sugar in preparation for making the coffee. "Yummy," he mumbled.

"Did you say something?"

Danny jerked up and bumped his head on the inner edge of the fridge top. Sodden biscuit crumbs sprayed out of his mouth. Some of them landed on the fridge shelves and others landed on his shoes. He glared at his wife and swallowed the last of his clandestine treat.

"Serves you right," Linda said unrepentantly.

Danny ignored her and moved to turn off the coffee percolator. He quickly poured the coffee while Linda set up the computer on the kitchen table.

"Okay, let's see who's welcoming me home." He sat beside his wife and draped his arm around her back. He gave her a quick kiss, took a sip of the first decent cup of coffee he'd had in what seemed like forever, stuffed another two cookies into his mouth, and put the DVD into the computer. It began to play automatically.

For the next two minutes and seventeen seconds the whole of the outside world disappeared for them. In fact, everything outside of the computer screen was forgotten, including their coffee and biscuits. Danny and Linda watched with fear and revulsion the scene that was portrayed in such gruesome detail for them. Actually it was more like two minutes and seven seconds because it took them more than a few seconds to be able to see anything in the darkened room on the screen. Once their eyes had adjusted to the dim light, the first thing they saw was a young man. He was shackled to a wall by all four limbs. His arms were pulled out sideways from his body in a crucifixion pose, and manacled at both the elbows and the wrists. He was kneeling on the floor with his lower legs rotated outwards so far that they were almost parallel to the wall. His head hung down lethargically, giving them a clear view of the blood that matting his hair. It was only when they looked very closely that they saw the one visible sign of life: A slight rising of the head and shoulders that accompanied every torturous breath.

When it finished, Danny's detective training kicked in. He mentally catalogued all the tools at his disposal, starting with his wife. He nodded towards the telephone. "Ring Dad. Tell him we need him and Mac here, forthwith." Then he focused his attention on the words scrolling along the bottom of the screen. He had noticed them during the first viewing of the disc, but he had been more fixated on watching the victim to actually read them closely. Now he did.

HE TRIED TO PROTECT YOU. NOW WHO'S GOING TO PROTECT HIM?

Danny paused the DVD, and got up and stretched. He picked up his cup of lukewarm coffee and took a sip of it while he searched the top of the writing desk for a pen and a pad of paper he could use to take note of his thoughts and observations as he continued to watch the evidence again. He clicked the mouse button and the DVD began again. Just then Linda came back, so he paused it again and passed her her cup of coffee. "What did you tell him?" he asked.

"The truth," Linda answered. "I told him that Jamie's been kidnapped. He's on his way and he's going to ring Mac. I've got no doubt he's phone right now, trying to get some answers as to how a cop could've gone AWOL unnoticed. I also rang Erin and told her what was going on. I told her to stay at work and be ready to get a warrant issued when you ring her. She sends her love, by the way. Lastly, I rang Henry. He's going to pick up Jack and Sean and take them to stay with him for the night."

"You should do it," Danny rubbed her knuckles. "They'll get less of a scare if you pick them up and tell them what's happened."

"You're right," Linda agreed. "What should I tell them?"

Danny considered. "Tell them that we have to go and help Uncle Jamie out with something urgently."

"They're not stupid, Danny. If I'm that vague they're bound to ask questions!" Linda finished her cup of coffee and picked up her keys and purse.

Danny followed her and yelled at her as she left the house. "I know they're not stupid, they're related to me!" He ran back to the kitchen and hit the mouse button. Watching the writhing, Danny thumped his fist on the table top. He hated that he had left things between he and wife like that. He had always known on an abstract level that he might leave one day and never see his family again. These last few days had taught him this lesson on a practical, and terrifying, level. Then the guilt started and he sat back with his head hanging. What if this time it happened for real? Slowly and painfully he tapped out a text message. _Sorry! I love you!_ His conscience salved he focused in on the background of the video, willing it to tell something, anything. He needed to try and see if there was there anything that he could use to help identify where it had been shot.

 _I refuse to give a name to the victim. I refuse to acknowledge their relationship to me. I refuse to become emotionally involved._ He sat back down at the table, and slapped the pad of paper on the table _. Well, that lasted all of about two seconds,_ he thought ruefully. _But what did I expect? He's my kid brother. He's Jamie._


	18. Chapter 18

_I've been played!_

As he regained consciousness, Jamie slowly became aware that his arms were aching and his stomach was rumbling. He earnestly hoped it was because he was starving, and not because he'd been given something he was allergic to or, worse still, he'd been overdosed. He was grateful that he wasn't gagged. At least he wouldn't choke on his own vomit. He meticulously inventoried his body. His shoulders and upper arms were uncomfortably stretched, but not painfully so. His knees dug into the ground. _Something's wrong._ He pressed his toes down. _They're to the side, not in front! Well, that's going to be painful when I stand up._

He peered through the dimness. He could see rectangular slivers of dull light hanging in mid-air. W _indows! They must be covered._ He looked around him again. This time he saw another set of four slivers. The left and right slivers were significantly taller than the others, one of which was at floor level. _That must be the door. Great! You're in a building with windows and a door. That really narrows it down. Come on, man. You can do better than that. You're playing a game of Detective with Danny. He's up nineteen points to fifteen. You need five more points to win. What are they?_

He pressed his back into the wall. It was carpeted. _Soundproofing._ _Amateurish, but still successful enough to make screaming useless. We have to be somewhere close to civilisation then_. _There's no need to even think about soundproofing if we are in the middle of the desert, especially when you're not that good at it. That's your first two points._

He needed more information. He thought hard. _The shackles._

He fought hard to ignore his growing headache, aching arms, and the cramps eating away at his stomach. He flexed his wrists, moving them until he touched the restraints. He rotated his hands until his thumbs brushed the bracket. It was iron, welded to the wall. He ran his thumbs over the welds and found them to be cold and smooth. Jamie tugged as hard as he could, and yet they held firm. _Point three. The welds are old. They must have sought out a place where they could take me. This was premeditated!_

He listened hard, trying to use a different sense to add information that would help him decipher where he was, but all he heard were vehicles, lots of vehicles. _So am I close to a busy road?_

He strained harder. He knew that any chance of rescue started with him. He so wanted to be there tonight when Danny finally came home from the hospital. His family would be so focused on that, nobody would miss him until he didn't arrive, and since he wasn't due to go there until after work, he wouldn't be missed for hours. In the meantime, he had to rely on himself to escape, and identify his kidnapper and her hide out. He gave his ears a rest for a minute because the effort was giving him major tinnitus. _The windows,_ he thought. He turned his attention back to them and mentally hit himself. _That's not a covering, it's smog!_ _I must be in a built up area! Point four!_ He took a deep breath and went back to listening, and suddenly he heard it - faint and faraway, but it was there. There, and annoying him. He knew what it was, but in his weakened state, he just couldn't place it. He thought and thought, but it wouldn't come to him. _No need to exhaust myself with things I'm not going to figure out._ _So what do I know about that sound?_ _It's tinny, and it's out of tune. Okay, that's good,_ he encouraged himself. _Out of tune. How? Flat or sharp? Flat. Tinny, flat, and very familiar._

"Da da da daa dadada," he hummed. Suddenly he found himself involuntarily singing the words of a very familiar and well-loved song from his childhood, one than he hadn't heard in many a year. "It's a world of laughter, a world of tears. It's a world of hopes and a world of fears." Add song meaning

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He knew where he had learnt that song. He let his mind wander for a while, forgetting his current situation and losing himself in his memories. Memories of waking up in the middle of the night or in the early hours of the morning from deep within the tentacles of a bad dream; his mother being there immediately as if she had been summonsed telepathically; her melodious voice, reassuring him and then calming him with song; her soft arms; her fine hair; the perfume she wore, even to bed - Jamie had wondered about that for many years, but now he was glad for the memory. Jamie suddenly realised with sadness that he hadn't heard "It's A Small World" since before his mother's death. He would have to remedy that. He had precious few things to remember her by. It would be stupid to deliberately forget one more, now that he had remembered it.

"I miss you, Mom," he said aloud, even though he knew she couldn't actually hear him. But then, that'd never stopped him. He often spoke to his mother and his older brother Joe, who had died some years before, killed by a consignment of cops gone bad. Even though it was Sonny Malevsky that had actually pulled the trigger, Jamie blamed them all, and now he spoke to Joe as well.

"Any ideas, bro? Where do you think I heard that tune? Not the real one, you dweeb, the fake one! The flat tinny one. It must be somewhere where I don't have any choice but to listen to it. I wouldn't dishonour Mom's memory that way, by voluntarily listening to such drivel. It wouldn't be at a family member's house. I can't imagine any of them listening to such bad music, either. Maybe it was in a shop. But what shop do I go into often enough that that tune would have stuck in my mind? That's just really illogical bro. You know how much I like shopping," he said sarcastically. His voice was rough and it was losing volume with every word. But he was determined to keep talking. He didn't know when he'd see his family again, if ever, so talking to them was the next best thing. He was going to do it for as long as he possibly could. It might be seen by some to be a sign of madness, but right now it was a comfort, a way to keep himself focused and sane.

"The only shops I visit regularly are the grog store and the pizza place, and the latter I get delivered more often than not. The grog shop plays modern throbbing, head-banging stuff. You know, the kind of stuff Danny used to listen to? Well, it's a million times louder now and far more unintelligible." He grimaced and wriggled, trying to relieve the ache in his shins. "Thanks, bro, you're a real help! The only other place I visit regularly is work. I must have heard it there. Someone there must have it, and play it often enough that I remember hearing it. It must be a ring tone."

He thought hard about all the different phones that regularly went off in the Precinct 12 building where he worked, but came up with nothing. _What else makes regular noise? Maybe something a child gave them. Maybe something on a desk?_ He visualised every desk, every shelf, every table, and every dumping spot. He looked under them, on them and behind them. Then suddenly it came to him: it was a music box. Mason Dunnery had a small music box locked in one of the drawers of her desk and every chance she got she opened the drawer and took it out to listen to it. Jamie had never asked her about it. In fact, Jamie had never asked her about much of anything. He definitely regretted that now.

"But, anyway - wham, bam, thank you ma'am! That's point five, and I win! Take that, Danny!" Jamie chortled.

Just then the object of his fears came through the door.

"Who were you talking to?" she yelled, her eyes darting around in fear.

"Hi, Mason."


	19. Chapter 19

Danny had scarcely finished watching the recording for the fourth time when Frank announced himself and hurried in. "This place is going to be crawling with cops any minute. I need to see the DVD before they get here."

"What did you find out?" Danny demanded.

"Captain Mollie is recalling Jamie's riding partner. After he's been interviewed Mollie'll going to ring me back."

"Eddie wasn't riding with Jamie?"

Frank shook his head. "Is this it?"

"Just press 'play'."

Frank picked up the pad Danny had been taking notes on and turned it over. Head laceration, joint dislocation, dehydration, he wrote as he watched it through again. His shoulders relaxed when he saw the upper half of Jamie's body rise and fall. Each inhalation was agonising and slow. But it was there. Jamie was alive.

Frank slumped back in his chair. "Talk to me."

Numbly, Danny narrated the events of the day. "It must have taken us about ten or fifteen minutes to get from the car to the door. Fifteen minutes that Jamie was suffering. Fifteen minutes that he didn't have to be."

He felt himself being tugged into a one armed hug. "It was fifteen minutes you and Linda needed to reconnect and be happy after the last week." As he returned the hug, he allowed the fury he still felt to drain away. What he had or hadn't been told was immaterial. He squeezed his father's shoulder with one hand and touched the computer screen with the other. _We'll find you, Jamie. Just hold on. We're coming._ Because he would be found. The Reagan family would make sure of that, no matter the time, no matter the cost.

At that moment, the sound of a vehicle pulling up outside broke the silence. "I'll go and see who that is." Time had stopped for Danny when he realised the extent of the pain and danger Jamie was in, so he was glad to escape the suffocating atmosphere of the kitchen. Once he was outside, he let out the breath he didn't know he was holding. He jogged to the front of the house to head off any civilian visitors before they touched the front porch, or worse still, the front door. To his relief, it was Mac and Adam. along with another couple.

"Danny Reagan, meet Danny and Lindsay Messer. They're here to process the scene. What are their immediate priorities?"

"I found the bag on knob of the front door," Danny pointed. "The bag's inside. I've touched it, so I'll need to give elimination prints. Come on, Mac." He led the way around the house, with Mac and Adam following but left them when two cruisers arrived.

Mac pushed open the back door leading into the kitchen. "What have we got?" he enquired briskly.

"This." Frank started the DVD for the umpteenth time. Mac and Adam watched, clinically studying it for clues.

When it was finished, Mac passed the computer to Adam. "I need to know where this recording was made, and anything you can tell us about who made it, who sent it, anything that'll help us track down the person or persons responsible."

Adam nodded. "I'll use my own." He quickly set it up beside Mac.

By that time a second car had arrived and the kitchen was crowded. Incoming calls would be tracked, mail scrutinised, visitors checked out, and computer communications monitored. In the adjoining living room, maps and whiteboards were laid out in anticipation of the Captain's report.

For a while nothing of note happened except Lindsay coming inside to take Danny's fingerprints and photograph the bag he had found the DVD in. She also took it aside to dust it for fingerprints and test it for foreign particulates. Then Frank's phone rang. Silence reigned as a phone trace was quickly started.

"Hello, Frank Reagan. Yes. Captain?" He wrote furiously then ran into the living room, beckoning for Danny and Mac to follow him. "Okay, we have an approximate time and possible location. Officers are at the scene canvassing for witnesses. Jamie and his partner Erik went to Cutler's Café for lunch. They weren't there long when one of their workmates, Probationary Officer Mason Dunnery, told them that they were being split up on the order of their Sergeant. According to Mason, she and Jamie were ordered back to the Precinct. The Sergeant denies issuing this order. Mason went out to the car where she got another phone call, this time from Officer Janko. This call said that Officer Janko would pick up Jamie and Probationary Officer Dunnery was to patrol a certain area of the city until further notice. Officer Janko also denied giving her any such orders."

"Wait a minute. Mason. Mason." Danny searched his memory for a faded piece of a recollection that was at the very blurry outer edge of his mind. But the cloudiness in his mind was only growing by the second. He cursed himself for his weakness when his brother's life may depend on him remembering what was sitting there in the fog.

"There's something in that DVD recording that I should recognise," he muttered under his breath. He shoved himself to the front of the group, ignoring everyone else's protests. He clicked the mouse and he forced himself to watch it over again, peering even closer into the blackness than he had done on previous viewings. "There! there!" he said excitedly, pointing to barely perceptible patch of the screen. "That glint on the floor. Can you enhance it Adam?"

"Sure." said Adam, pressing a few keys on his laptop. "There," he said, "That is the best that I can do."

"It's just a wad of paper," Frank said disgustedly. "What are we supposed to do with that?"

"It's a chocolate wrapper, if that helps," Adam noted.

"So what? They're a dime a dozen all around the country. It's not going to get us anywhere," Frank said dispiritedly.

"Not that one. It's not a dime a dozen," noted Adam. "See that logo there? It's part of the logo of one of the most expensive brands on the market in the whole of America!"

 _Expensive chocolate, that should mean something to me, I know it should_ , Danny argued with himself. _So what is it?_

Frank watched his boy closely and didn't like what he saw. "There can't be many buyers around here then. Get on it," he instructed everyone in the room. He beckoned for Danny to follow him out to the passage. "You okay, Son?" He searched the younger man's face for signs that Danny was being anything less than completely honest.

"I'm fine," Danny insisted. "I forgot to take my last dose of meds, that's all. I was going to take them when I got home. Now it's too late. I can't take them now."

"Yes, you can!" Frank corrected him. "And what's more, you will. Now." He pushed Danny toward the kitchen but Danny resisted.

"They're still in the car. I can't take them until Linda gets back, and even then I won't. I need to keep a clear head until after I've brought Jamie home."

Frank fisted the front of Danny's shirt and stepped up until their noses ere practically touching. "You'll take it as soon as Linda gets back. If you need me to take you to your bedroom and reinforce the message, I will."

"No need. Message received, loud and clear." Danny stomped back into the kitchen with his father close behind.

"Everybody be quiet!" Officer Tani Bestford gesticulated wildly. The room instantly stilled, and they heard the faint strains of music. "I know that sound," she murmured. "One of the girls at work owns a music box that plays exactly that same tune. Flat as pancake, that's how I remember it."

"What's her name?" Frank urged her.

Tani thought hard. "Mason!" she exclaimed. "New girl, keeps to herself, not many friends, gets on well with Jamie, though. Can't remember her last name."

"Mason Dunnery!" Danny snapped his fingers. "She came to visit me in the hospital, brought me a variety box of high end chocolate. She admitted to me she's probably the biggest buyer of that brand of chocolate in the whole of America."

"That's her," Tani confirmed." She's always talking to Jamie, asking him questions. She's even put in a request to ride with him a few times. It's never happened though, at least not to my knowledge."

Adam picked up a piece of paper out of the printer and skimmed it. "Booyah! Mason Dunnery has a standing order for one box per month of a 3 lb box of Gremain Variety Dark chocolates. A flavour for everybody. Lemon, Berry, Caramel, Salted Butterscotch."

"Is that enough for a warrant?" Tani asked.

"Dad'll soon find out," Danny answered. He handed Frank the phone. "My sister, Erin, is an Assistant District Attorney. She knows what's happening and she's waiting for our call."

Erin snatched up the phone as soon as it rang, hopeful that Jamie had been returned unharmed. Even if he hadn't overpowered his captor, even if he had no idea who the perpetrator was, it would be alright if only her baby brother was home. Her father's words quickly dispelled her hopes.

"We need a warrant," Frank quickly relayed the evidence from the DVD.

Erin bit her lip. She had to make a decision. Pursue a warrant now on extremely flimsy evidence and possibly endanger the court case later on just to get her eyes on her beloved sibling that much sooner. Or wait until stronger evidence was presented so that the conviction would stick, knowing that doing so could endanger her youngest sibling's life. She took a deep breath. Thank goodness she was talking to her father and not Danny.

"That's not enough evidence," she stated. "Chocolate bars that are sold all over the country and mass produced music boxes that could very well all have the same fault? Where's her motive and opportunity? Even the fact that Jamie seems to be the only person she's befriended at work will get shot down by any half decent attorney once this gets to court."

"How about the fact that she was the one to split him from his partner this afternoon? Or that nobody saw her from the time she got into the car outside the café until she was recalled to the station?"

"Which gives her opportunity." Erin snapped her fingers. "Stand by."


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N:** I'm so glad you all liked the Frank and Danny interactions. I'd toyed with the idea of prolonging the rift, but I couldn't find any reason to. Obviously it was a good decision

Also, welcome to any new readers, followers, and favouriters -hugs to all-

* * *

Frank jumped up. "Let's go save our boy!" he demanded.

"No." Mac simultaneously gripped Frank's arm and dialled a number on his phone. "No civilians on rescue missions, you know that. All family members stay here until it's over." He spoke into the phone. "Don, swing by ADA Erin Reagan Boyle's office and pick up the warrant she has for us. Bring Jo and Sheldon." He signalled to Frank who pulled out his own phone. "I'll meet you there with Danny and Lindsay."

"I sure hope you mean Danny Messer, not Danny Reagan, Boss. One thing we do not need while trying to save his brother is a raging bull like Detective Danny Reagan chomping at the bit to be let loose."

Mac sensed the apprehension in Don's tone. "Messer it is. The Reagans are staying put and keeping out of trouble."

As he shifted the phone away from the ear, he was witness to a sharp, and very cynical, laugh.

Mac strode towards the door, but swung back when he saw movement in his peripheral vision but before he could respond Linda stepped past him into the house.

"Uh uh Danny. You heard the man. Sit down and shut up." She softened the words with a hand on his shoulder and kiss to his cheek that accompanied a whisper only Danny heard.

"I'll keep you informed." Danny nodded at Mac's reassurance. "Adam, send everyone the address and stand by for further instructions."

"Damn right you will!" Frank thundered.

Mac didn't hear him. He was already out the door and shouting for his team members. Danny and Lindsay quickly packed their kits away and stowed them in the trunk. Mac threw the keys to Danny and slid into the back seat. Danny was confused until he heard Mac talking. _SWAT? He must have some pretty good intel that it's going to be more dangerous than normal. They don't come out for nothing._ Worry about the victim meant it took all his self-control to stay right on the speed limit until he pulled the car up behind Don's. He beeped the horn as Don jogged over.

"Address is 3844 West Broadhurst Way, Macaw Heights. You know it?"

"We'll follow you. That way if we get lost, Mac can blame you."

"Funny, Messer. Funny." Don held up a document Erin. "Warrant's for person, house, garage, property, car and everything contained therein."

Danny cut the engine when Mac pushed his door open. "Boss?"

"We're going to brief here with SWAT. Doing it on scene might be too risky, given the importance of the victim and the unknown number of assailants."

During the time it took for everyone to assemble, Adam sent blueprints and floor plans to Mac's laptop, as well as street view photos. The team memorised them thoroughly.

"Well, it certainly stands out from the rest," Don observed.

"Yeah. I know this is a swanky neighbourhood, so it stands to reason that whoever commissioned it would have money to burn." Lindsay pursed her lips." But I think they've got more money than sense. That house looks like a giant pink golf ball, complete with windows for dimples."

"What's the joke?"

"Hi, Theo," The team stopped laughing when Mac greeted the SWAT Team Leader.

Mac brought Theo's team up to speed and showed them the DVD. Then Theo lead a discussion on the best way to breach the building.

"The victim is a white male, approximately thirty, that's 3 0 years of age." Mac slapped Jamie's picture on the hood of the car. "He disappeared at lunchtime today. The number of perps is unknown, so be on your guard. Move out."

On the way, Mac kissed the cross on the necklace he wore, and he grinned to himself when he saw Danny kiss the photo of his daughter Lucy that he kept in his wallet. _Some traditions are worth keeping,_ he thought. _It's always brought us good luck before._

Half an hour later it was all over. The good luck streak had ended. The pink golf ball was empty.

"What do you want us to do, Mac?" Theo knew it was protocol to return to Base after every callout. But when the victim was the Police Commissioner's son…

Mac considered. Reluctantly, he said, "Stand down. I'm going back to the Precinct to interview the suspect." He turned back to his team. "Lindsay, you'll go update the Reagans after you drop me off. When you've finished, take Adam back to the Lab and start processing his evidence. Everyone else search the house. Look for anything that will tell us where Jamie Reagan is. Take whatever you find back to the Lab and hopefully, I'll have better intel before too long." He signalled to Danny and Danny threw him the keys.

"Lucky we put our kits in the car." Don scuffed his shoe against a table as they all left the house. To his dismay he heard the urn that had been on top of it fall behind him and smash. _Let's hope that wasn't a priceless antique._

"So what's the plan?" Jo asked. "I mean, we can't exactly go front to back. This place is set out like a Trivial Pursuit piece complete with game tokens."

"Which means there's only 6 small rooms and a stairwell to search. Danny and Jo, you take the kitchen, bathroom, & study," Don ordered. "Sheldon and I'll take the lounge, laundry, & bedroom. Then you two clear the garage and stairwell and we'll clear the property."

It didn't take long for Jo to find something. "This look familiar?" When Danny whistled an agreement, she yelled for Don.

Don and Sheldon came running. "What? What is it?"

"I think we have another issue to deal with here." She indicated the open drawer. "Tell me if I'm wrong, but that looks to me like the wicking from the bomb used to attack Danny Reagan."

Don flicked over the packet of rope and read the date of manufacture. "Five years ago," he noted. "Fits with the time frame. Okay, guys. Our first priority is still finding Jamie Reagan. Find evidence of his current whereabouts and we find him. But if you find evidence relating to the attack on his brother, bag it and tag it for later analysis."

He and Sheldon returned to the lounge. After clearing the lounge suite and fireplace, Don moved on to the most search intensive piece in the room, an eight drawer desk. Thankfully, each drawer was neat and organised so it didn't take him long to hit pay dirt. "Didn't we analyse paint flecks from a yellow car whose license plate possibly ends in a two?" He waved a sheaf of papers, then leafed through them. "Ownership papers in Mason Dunnery's name for a yellow 1964 1/2 Mustang convertible, license plate KMH 1372. Also current registration and inspection papers in the same name."

"Pity. That means we can't bring her in for traffic violations, Al Capone style."

"Huh?" Don was barely listening, so intent was he on perusing the papers.

"You know, Al Capone, American gangster of the early 20th century? Arrested on tax evasion charges?"

"Oh, yeah. Him. Are we finished?" When Sheldon finally confirmed that they had, he followed Sheldon into the bedroom.

"I'll start with the closet," Don pulled the door open, hoping it would be as organised as the rest of the house was.

"I'll start with the bedside table." Sheldon knelt down. "This is interesting."

"What is?"

"It's much heavier than a bedside table ought to be." He swung open the cupboard. "Huh! A two row soda dispenser that doesn't dispense soda."

"How do you know it doesn't work?"

"I followed the instructions and got nothing for my dollar." Sheldon rotated the machine and studied the back of it. "It makes noise, so it's obviously meant to work. She probably brings it out when she's entertaining friends to make a little bit of extra cash. Ingenious, really. I wonder what's blocking it." He finally pulled off the back cover. "Well, this is not normal. The back is false, and guess what it contains? A shrine, that what!"

"Huh?" Don turned his back on the closet, where he was rifling through a pile of labelled boxes. He thumbed through some of the papers and cards that Sheldon handed him and read them aloud, one at a time. "You are my heart's desire. I will save you from The Evil One. He won't hurt you ever again. I'll never betray you. She's good. She never mentions any names. Any good defender would convince the jury The Evil One is The Devil, not Danny Reagan. Everything we have here is circumstantial."

"These aren't. Listen to this. "I just want to protect you," Sheldon read. "I just want you to know what it is like to be loved unconditionally, no strings, no agendas. I have to get you out from under the influence of your family. Once I get you alone, you will see that I am right. Danny Reagan is toxic and needs to be eliminated."

Sheldon then held up a wedding invitation. _"You are cordially invited to witness the joining in matrimony of Mason Isadora Dunnery and Jamison C. Reagan."_

"Unrequited love, the oldest motive in the book."

"How do you know it's unrequited?"

Don bagged the papers. "If they're engaged, you'd expect her to know his middle name. She doesn't. Heck, I know your middle name and we're not even dating."

"Bet you don't," Sheldon challenged.

"Ace. Your middle name is Ace."

Sheldon pouted. "I'm going to see how Danny and Jo are getting on." Don's laugh followed him out the door.

A minute later, Sheldon returned. "You're lucky. I can't find them. They must be downstairs." Don arched his eyebrows. "Okay, okay. They're in the bathroom. I heard them talking."

"There must be great soundproofing in here." It was only by straining hard that Don could hear the conversation going on next door.

"One bottle of Prozac, made out to Mason Dunnery. That's the same medication Adam found traces of in the upchuck from the bombing scene, right?" Danny shook the container from the bathroom cabinet. "It's a current bottle, but going by the date and the directions on the label, I'd say she's missed a few doses."

"She's missing more than a few doses," Jo muttered as they went to the stairwell, which was quickly cleared. Gaining the garage floor, she clapped her hands in delight. "This woman sure likes her vintage stuff. Look at this! A gumball machine from at least the 19 40s, if not earlier. Too bad someone's put it on this wooden base, though. It would be worth so much more in its original condition." She walked around the construction. "Mind you, this cupboard would hold a lot of gumballs." She opened it. "Uh uh, not gumballs."

"Wow," Danny breathed when he saw the mutilated pictures of Danny Reagan. Every likeness had a body part ripped out, torn out, or otherwise mutilated. "Someone's got anger issues."

"Not just anger, legal too." Jo opened a small metal box. "Gun parts – no grip, rags, plastic, glass, and a bag of things that'd inflict spectacular shrapnel wounds."

"We'd better get them back to the lab, quick smart." While Jo was bagging up the evidence and tagging it, Danny walked over to the boxes and counted them. Between the four of them they had three boxes of evidence, plus the soda dispenser and gumball machine. He opened the garage door. "Crap! It's raining. Did anybody bring an umbrella?"

"There's probably one in the car," Jo shrugged. "Let's take the evidence out and have a look. Then one of us can stay in the car and preserve the chain of custody, while the other one helps Doc and Don finish the property."

Danny wrinkled his nose and whipped a quarter out of his pocket. "Flip you for it."


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N:** Thanks everyone for your continued support -mass hugs- Unfortunately, updates over the next few months might not be as regular as they have been. I'm starting a writing class with a view to publishing, so I'll be running around like a cut cat until the end of November. I will still try and update at least twice a month, though.

Mac entered the Precinct and went straight to Mason's desk. She was easy to identify, thanks to the picture Adam had sent him. "Ms. Dunnery? Please come with me. I have a few more questions for you."

"I've already answered all the Sergeant's questions. Anything you want to know, you can find out from my statement to him." She moved her computer mouse to the middle of the computer screen, clicked on the document and began typing.

Mac gripped her shoulder. "Don't make me arrest you," he warned softly.

The look on her face as Mac led her away was venomous. Just as they reached the Interview Room Mac heard a commanding voice say "Stop bleeding on my floor!" Looking over his shoulder into the patrol room he laughed softly. _That's one thing I don't miss!_ he thought when he saw a rough looking female hopping on one foot as she was 'guided' to a chair. He did feel a little sorry for her though. The cop wasn't exactly being gentle. Remembering where he was, he shut the door before he said something that would overreach his authority in the Precinct.

"That's Bayliss," Mason remarked. "He's a violent thug."

"Where's Jamie Reagan?"

Mason protested that she didn't know where he was, that they'd seen each other at lunch but parted ways soon after, due to a series of phone calls she'd received.

"Those purported phone calls will need to be investigated. I'll need all your phones. Please take them out, slowly and carefully and place them on the desk." He placed his hand on his gun and watched her carefully.

Mason threw a phone on the desk. "That's my work phone," she spat out. "My personal phone is in my desk. Be my guest. Bottom drawer. Key's in my wallet." She reached into her back pocket.

Mac beckoned to the cop who was standing guard outside. He entered, they held a whispered conversation, and he left. A few minutes later he returned with two more phones.

Mac quirked an eyebrow.

"What? I've never seen that phone before in my life!"

"Which one?" Mac slid them closer to her. "Look, don't touch."

Mason visually inspected both phones and shrugged. "I'm not sure which one's not mine, but I am sure that one of them's not!"

Mac nodded again and retreated to the corner of the room to make a phone call. "Adam? Are you at the Lab yet?"

"We've just left the Reagan's. We'll be about twenty minutes."

"How are they?"

"Discouraged. What do you need, Mac?"

"We've found three phones in our suspect's possession. Two of them are identical, and she insists one of them isn't hers, but doesn't know which. I need all of them analysed." Mac thought about what he specifically needed urgently. "I need to know if any of them contain the phone calls our suspect says she received around the time Jamie Reagan disappeared and, if so, which one. I also need to know if the callers are the people she named, as well as anything else that might be useful."

"Sure, Boss." Adam nibbled on the end of the pen that he'd used to write down Mac's orders. "Do you need us to come pick them up?" Hearing that the phones would be sent to the Lab by cop, Adam relaxed. _I know which cop I'd like it to be. I've had enough of talking to strangers in the last couple of days to last me a lifetime!_

The rest of the journey passed in silence. Lindsay was reflecting on her recent errand and praying the family would be reunited again soon. Adam was cataloguing all the tests he'd have to run, and how soon he could have answers for his boss.

"Adam! Adam Ross!" The two of them had just entered the building, when Adam's name was urgently called. He jogged over to the reception desk. "This guy says he's got a delivery for you. Are you expecting anything?"

"Sure am." Adam grinned at the delivery boy. Then he remembered what Mac had said. "You're not a cop," he accused suspiciously.

"And you don't look like a scientist," the teenager said. He wasn't trying to be rude or superior. He was just stating a fact. "Look, my name's Keith and I was given this box to drop off at this address to a guy named Adam Ross. Are you him?"

Adam nodded and signed the receipt before opening the box. It contained another DVD and some photos. Adam thumbed through them. They were all of Jamie Reagan in a different room, and now gagged and unconscious. "Keith!"

Keith, who had walked away after Adam signed the receipt, whirled around. "Yeah?"

"Where did you get these?"

The boy started to reach into his pants pocket, but didn't get very far. He was tackled and thrust face down on the floor. He struggled briefly but was swiftly overpowered.

"Where did you get these?" The words were repeated, this time far more menacingly and straight into his ear.

"They were dropped off at my depot. Did you even read what you signed? Check my work order and my front pocket."

His story was verified, so he was allowed to stand up, though he was still in the grip of the security guards. Adam rang Mac.

"Boss, I've got a kid here who's in possession of more photos of our victim, as well as another DVD. How'd you want to get him to you? Okay, I'll hand him over to security until he gets transferred." He listened as Mac gave him more instructions. "Yes, boss. I'll let you know as soon as I've analysed the new new evidence, as well as the old new evidence. Which, it seems, has just arrived." He listened again. "Okay, will do." He stuck his phone back in his pocket and addressed the cop that had just arrived. "I'm Adam Ross. You have a delivery for me?" He took the three sealed plastic evidence bags, verified that they were all phones, and signed for them. "Officer Bayliss, this is Keith. He's going back with you to talk to Detective Mac Taylor." He winced when the cop grabbed Keith by the elbow and dragged him away. "Hey, careful! He's a kid, not a cow!"

"I know he's not a cow. Cows are female!"

Adam added the extra evidence to his load and he and Lindsay rode the elevator up to the Lab. Adam entered the Computer Lab with the phones, DVDs, and photos, and Lindsay took the evidence from Danny's house to the Trace Lab.

Adam made a copy of the second DVD and emailed it to Mac before texting him to inform him. Then he started running time and date analysis tests on all calls that had come in to the phones in the last twenty-four hours. _If I can confirm their accuracy, I'll know which calls to focus on from today._

Just then his phone rang.

"Hello, Adam speaking."

"Adam, I'm emailing you voice samples from the Sergeant and Officer Janko to compare with those on the phones."

"Sure, Boss. Do you think you can send me one of Mason Dunnery too? If there's a caller on each of these phones claiming to be her, I'll need a verified example before I can prove which one is telling the truth."

"Will do. Good thinking."

Adam shook his phone when it went dead. So he rang Mac back. "Boss? I think we got cut off. Quick question for you. Where's Dunnery's patrol car? Has anyone checked her odometer, logbook or GPS?"

"I don't think so. But even if they have, I'll have it towed to our evidence garage so our evidence mechanics can run their own tests. Anything else?"

"No, Boss, I think that's it." This time when the line went dead, Adam realised that Mac had hung up on him. Shrugging, he fingerprinted the DVD while he waited for the results of the phone tests. He came away with nothing so he swabbed it for trace. When a few quick tests proved it negative for drugs, he subjected the swabs to analytical chromatography. _That'll take a while._ Just then his computer beeped to signal an incoming email message. As he opened the voice samples he thought, _Thank goodnes Reagan thought to get a search warrant for the phone records. If the phone calls today didn't come from the Sergeant and Officer Janko, maybe they'll match someone else she's rung in the last twenty four hours._ His shoulders slumped. _And, yeah, I can always go back further if I need to._

He returned to the photos and the box they were delivered in, repeating the same tests he'd done on the DVD. He then refocused his mind on scrutinising the pictures. One by one he went over every inch of them with a magnifying glass.

The time analysis tests on the phones were completed, so Adam interrupted his examinations to begin the voice comparisons. Just then he got a call from the garage,

"Adam Ross?"

"That's me."

"It's Winston, one of the evidence mechanics. We've got some preliminary results that your boss might be interested in."

"So why are you calling me?"

"I don't have his number. And even if I did, rumour has it your boss is one scary guy."

"He's scarier still if there's a mistake that makes the evidence inadmissible in court. If I tell him what you found out, that makes it hearsay evidence which is usually inadmissible in court. Sorry, I'm not going to risk my job because you're afraid of strangers. Here's his number." He rattled it off twice before ending the phone call.

Winston sighed, adjusted his belt, sighed again, then consulted the piece of paper on the desk before him. _Here goes nothing_. He pulled the desk phone to him and dialled. "Hello? Mac Taylor?"

 _That is interesting_ , Mac thought as he listened, contemplating the woman in front of him. He saw her rub her upper arms as if she was cold.

"So how do you explain this?" Mac played her the first DVD. He let it run through, closely observing Mason's body language as she watched Jamie in captivity. He then showed her two clips in isolation, the first of the chocolate wrapper and the second of the music box music. "Well?"

"My music box went missing yesterday," she admitted miserably. "And no, I didn't report it. It's just a music box. Every complaint and report we get outranks that. I know it, and you know it. As for the chocolate, I may be a major consumer of it, but I'm by no means the only one."

"What about this?" He showed her a clip of the second DVD, which showed Jamie tied up, gagged and unconscious in a different room than he was in the first DVD.

"That I do recognise!" Mason shrieked in relief. "It's a house I've visited numerous times. It's a beautiful house that's for sale and I'm very interested in purchasing it." She gave Mac the address.

"And that's where you were sent to patrol today? How many miles is it from here to there?" Mac eyeballed the rookie.

"I don't know."

"Surely you recorded your travels in the logbook?"

Mason dug her knuckles into her forehead. "Sarge told me not to, that since it was an emergency change in my route, it got recorded elsewhere and he'd take care of it."

"And you believed him?" Mac shook his head.

"He's my Sergeant. Of course I did!"

"So that's why our evidence mechanics found that the odometer on your work car has significantly more miles on it than your recording book for today, and the GPS shows that made multiple unlogged stops today, including during the time Jamie Reagan went missing?"

Instead of answering Mason protested vehemently. "I didn't do anything wrong. I was told to go there!"

"So you admit to being at the scene of kidnapping during the time it was committed, and you can identify one of the places he is being held." Before he could comment further, Mac got a phone call. He listened for a few seconds. "Mason Dunnery, you are under arrest on suspicion of kidnapping and attempted murder." He read her her Miranda Rights, then quickly transferred her into the custody of the NYPD before running out of the building. As he left, he heard furniture clattering and an outraged howl.

"I say unto you again: cease and desist this course of action!"


	22. Chapter 22

Urgently, Mac punched at his phone's number pad. "Adam, I need floor plans for 1514 Fawn Boulevard. Everything you've got, sent to my phone now."

His car wheels spun as he sped away from the Precinct. He opened up a radio link. "Central. This is Detective Mac Taylor, Badge Number 8433. I need a SWAT team at the corner of Lazy Feather Terrace and Alvertus Promenade. We have credible intel as to the whereabouts of a kidnapping victim."

"Understood, Detective. SWAT will be dispatched to your location."

A great dose of luck brought him to the empty house in less than half the time it would normally take to travel that distance. As he neared it, he slowed down and drove past at a speed calculated to not attract attention. He risked a second pass. _Thank goodness! I don't see anything that merits immediate entry._ He parked half a block upwind and doubled back. Surreptitiously, his eyes dissected every inch of the property that he could see by the streetlight. Seeing nothing amiss, he started searching the surrounding areas, taking care to keep away from the streetlights and using the fading sun to avoid being seen between the foliage of the trees that dotted the side of the road. Finally he saw a mangled credit card. Taking a cloth out of his pocket he held the evidence by the edges and unfolded it. _Bingo!_ He crept back to the car and contacted Central Command again. "Central. This is Detective Mac Taylor, Badge Number 8433." He cleared his throat. "I've found a credit card belonging to kidnap victim Jamie Reagan at my location. Discretion is essential."

"Understood, Detective. SWAT will be advised to approach with no lights or sirens."

Mac then rang Don. "I've got another lead on where Jamie might be. SWAT and I will handle it. You guys stay on the evidence. We'll need all we can get to convict Mason Dunnery. Juries don't tend to want to believe cops can be kidnappers and would be murderers."

While he was waiting for the SWAT team, Mac moved to a position where he could monitor both locations. He searched the perimeter of the house for any signs of life and was discouraged to see there were none. No curtains shifted. No lights were on. No shadows moved. He stopped himself from imagining the worst. He looked back to where he'd arranged to meet the team. _It's getting too dark. I won't be able to see them and they won't be able to see me._ Regretfully, he jogged away from the house, glad that he'd put on a dark jacket and dark pants that morning.

When SWAT arrived Mac found himself face to face with Theo again, as well as Danny Reagan's riding partner, Maria Baez.

"I was in the vicinity when the call came in," she explained.

Shrugging, Mac started giving out information on the target house and victim for the second time that day. This time both of the DVDs were shown.

"Even though we have a suspect in custody, she's proclaiming her innocence and won't give up her accomplices. So nobody knows exactly how many other perps there are, or whether they're armed or not. But we do know this: Rescuing Jamie Reagan is our first priority. Taking the kidnappers alive is a distant second. Understood?"

Once again, Mac kissed his cross. Then he kissed it again. _If tradition doesn't work, maybe superstition will._

In the fading daylight, a SWAT officer crept around the side of the house, keeping as close to the bushes as they could to minimise the chances of being seen. Baez mirrored the SWAT agent on the other side of the house. She crept around the corner of the house. Her eyes were continually moving, looking left and right, up and down even as her head remained motionless. Her ears, too, were attuned to anything out of the ordinary. She finally convinced herself the coast was clear. She motioned to the police officer behind her. He passed her to guard the door from the other side. Once she had been given the "all clear" by her SWAT counterpart, she relayed their readiness to Mac. Seconds later, they received the orders to move in.

"Get down! Get down! On the floor!"

"NYPD! Don't move!"

"Clear!"

"On the floor! Right now!"

"Go! Go! Go!"

"Clear!"

For a few minutes chaos reigned as simultaneous orders were barked out at full volume while as the house was cleared, a technique designed to unnerve and befuddle the occupants, so that the police officers had a few extra seconds to overpower before they were overpowered. Then silence reigned.

"There's no one here," Baez reported unnecessarily.

"But they were!"

An excited exclamation from downstairs sent Maria and Mac running.

"Who said that?" Mac demanded.

A young man raised his hand. "Gerald Krumholz, sir." He pointed to the wall.

"This looks familiar," Mac confirmed. "Shackles on the floor, shackles on the wall. And they've been here a while, too. Official records show the property has only been vacant a few weeks. These were here a lot longer than that."

"But why?" Gerald asked. "Why would someone deliberately install multiple shackles in their basement?"

Maria stood back and did some mental calculations. "Think adult, legal, and barely socially acceptable."

Gerald blinked, opened his mouth, shut it again, then walked out of the room muttering, "I wish I'd never asked."

The group gathered upstairs.

"What now, Mac?"

Mac knew exactly what the SWAT leader was asking. _No. No way am I going to fail again._ "Everyone quiet!" Mac called out. Everyone froze in their tracks and listened.

As she listened, Baez also looked. She saw nothing to alert her that this room was anything out of the ordinary, even if it looked like it had been furnished by an amateur. Everything that was paired up was either completely mismatched, as in the case of the neon yellow and neon purple cushions on the orange leather sofa, or they were just a little off, as in the case of the snow white window trimmings and the antique white skirting boards.

 _It looks like there's a teabag or two in the mouth of that gargoyle sitting by that paperweight_ _on that shelf,_ she thought. _In any other house, that'd weird._ Suddenly part of the wall rotated towards her as her hand brushed the paperweight.

The wall struck her violently in the stomach and the knee, shoving her backwards and revealing a long thin passage hidden under the stairs.

Theo moved quickly to the entrance. He activated his head lamp, and his team did the same. Guns at the ready, they inched their way down the shadowy passage, using gestures to indicate as the first three rooms were cleared. But they weren't quiet enough.

"I will not surrender!" a voice screamed.

"NYPD, come out with your hands up. We have you surrounded!"

"One unidentified female," Mac whispered to Theo. "Give up, and nobody will get hurt," he yelled into the gloom. The only answer he received was a gunshot.

Theo signalled for everyone to get in position. One officer stood guard on the near side of the target doorway and one on the far side. A third officer guarded the room across the hall.

Mac called out again. "We have you surrounded! Come out with your hands up!"

Again, the only answer was a gunshot and the officer across the hall fell.

"Officer down! Officer down!" At those words, the two officers nearest the doorway entered the room with their guns drawn, followed by Mac and Theo.

"Come any closer and I'll blow his brains out." Jamie flinched as a gun barrel was pressed into his temple. "Where is he?"

"Where is who? Tell me who you're looking for and I'll get them here as soon as I can," Mac bargained.

"I would have thought he'd have come with you. I do have a gun at his brother's temple, after all." Jamie tensed at those words and he felt lips tickling his ear. "That's right, Jamie boy, Danny's the only one that can save you, and he's not here. Guess what that means for you?"

Mac took one step forward before he was fired at. The shot whizzed by and harmlessly lodged itself in the passage wall.

"I have people trying to locate him right now. He'll be here soon."

"Oh, you're all the same! Can't do anything for yourselves. Have to rely on others to get your jobs done." Her tone was at first mocking and then menacing. "Ten minutes. Ten minutes then he'll be living for the rest of his life with his brother's blood on his hands."

"I'll make sure he knows the stakes. But what if we can't find him? What if we ge Erin Reagan or Police Commissioner Frank Reagan instead? They'd make excellent hostages."

"I don't want a hostage. I want a body. Danny Reagan's, specifically."

"Why? What do you have against him?"

"He's a coward! He wants Dino's job, so what does he do? Instead of working his way up the chain of command like Dino did, he makes up a story and goes running to Daddy. Now Dino's facing demotion!" She cocked the gun. In doing so, she shifted slightly and took her eyes off her adversary. Twin reports resounded in the tiny room, followed by two more quick shots and then silence.

"She's dead," Theo said, unnecessarily checking the body for a pulse.

"Somebody guard the body while I inform the Police Commissioner," Mac instructed. He moved away and spoke quietly into his headset.

Baez pushed her way into the room and ran to Jamie. She gently unwound the gag from around his mouth. "We'll get you out of here," she comforted him, before pulling out her pocket knife to attack the ropes that were wrapped around his wrists and ankles.

Mac arrived just as Jamie tried to talk. Not getting any sense out of him, Mac called for water. Once Jamie had taken a few sips, he whispered,

"Trixie, her name's Trixie Bukman."

"You know her?" Baez asked.

"Not really." Jamie shook his head, then rubbed his forehead as a headache fanned out across his skull. "She was hurt in the bombing. I helped her and her husband escape. He was later admitted to St. Vincent's with a stroke. I met her there while she was visiting him. Other than that, I know nothing. But I think she was setting up Mason Dunnery for some reason."

"For the kidnapping, maybe." Mac hesitated, instantly regretting saying anything.

"But?" Jamie asked, his voice raspy and barely understandable.

"It's possible she was set up for that too, but there is evidence she could be responsible for the attempt on Danny's life." Baez rubbed his arm. It was meant as a gesture of comfort, but Jamie hissed in pain. "Either way, she's in custody. And you're in need of medical care."

"I'm fine," Jamie insisted. He tried to stand up, but screamed as all his leg joints gave way amid a fiery lake of pain.

"How's about we let the experts decide that?" Baez insisted, gently holding him against the ground, and assisting him to sip at the bottle of water.

"We're here." Baez scuttled back as the paramedics joined them. And none too soon either. Preventing a Reagan from moving is as likely as preventing the tides from occurring.

After a thorough investigation, there was good news. "He doesn't need to be hospitalised. He should be alright after a few days recuperating at home. As long as he takes it easy, eats well, and drinks plenty, he should be fine."

"Will be fine," Jamie asserted in close to his normal voice.

Mac relaxed even further. _This might just end well after all,_ he thought. "Move out," he called. Turning to Baez, he said, "Take Jamie to my vehicle. I'll be with you shortly." As soon as he was alone, he put in a call to the Crime Lab. "Danny, we need a forensic team down here pronto. Adam's got the address. Get me the initial findings as soon as possible. I'll be on my cell if I'm not back at the lab when you call."

He spent a few minutes debriefing with Theo, then returned to his car.

"Jamie, you're supposed to be taking it easy," he chastised when he came upon the young man arguing with Baez as they sat in the back of the vehicle.

"She said she'd tell me everything after I was cleared by the paramedic," Jamie grumped.

"It is after," Mac reminded him. "And it'll still be after once we get you to Danny's. So obey doctor's orders, rest your voice, and stop arguing," he ordered as they sped off.

"Danny's just got out of hospital," Jamie protested. "I'll be fine at home."

"Uh uh," Maria shook her head. "We are not carrying you up all those stairs. The elevator's out of order, remember? And since Danny's my partner, I'm not going to risk his wrath by taking you anywhere but there."

"What she said." Mac stopped to let pedestrians cross the road. "So, knowing your family, I suggest you conserve your energy before you have to face the Irish Inquisition."

"Yeah, Jamie, shut up." Baez teased.

Jamie pouted. "Stop ganging up on me." He was actually glad to stop talking though, because his voice was getting hoarser with every word and his jaw was aching from a combination of the gag and dehydration and trying to talk. Within a short time, he was asleep.


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N:** Congratulations to those of you who made the Dino connection. In the show, I was unsatisfied with the way he suddenly left, so I decided to do a little backstory.

* * *

Finally, they pulled up at Danny's house. Baez gently woke Jamie up and helped him out of the car. Immediately, Danny and Frank engulfed him in their arms.

"Are you two coming inside?" Frank inquired, looking over Jamie's shoulder.

"I thought Jamie might appreciate a good night's sleep before we debrief." Mac replied. "If it's okay with you, he can come to the station tomorrow to give his statement. Or I can come here if that works better. Either way, I'll fill you in on all the details then."

Frank and Danny both locked eyes with Mac and Baez, silently communicating their gratitude, and the gratitude of all their family.

"Here sounds good to me," Frank pulled his youngest son to his side.

"And I'll make sure Jamie looks more alive than he does right now," Danny jested. Then his face lost all its color as he realised how different the night could have turned out. "I'm sorry," he stuttered.

"Don't worry about it," Baez assured him. "You and 'foot in mouth disease' seem to go hand in hand where Jamie is concerned."

Danny's face immediately turned a deep red, and Frank found himself snorting in amusement. _That's going a great topic to explore at a later date._

"Frank? I just need a couple of minutes with you, then I'll leave you and your family alone." Mac's words broke into his thoughts.

Frank nodded and transferred his baby to Danny, who laid Jamie's head on his shoulder as they slowly made their way inside. _Thank goodness he's alive._

"Frank, the kidnapper was killed in a shootout. We had no choice. She had a gun on Jamie, she was threatening Danny, and she was becoming unpredictable." Mac showed Frank a photo he'd taken on his phone. "Do you recognise this woman?"

Frank moved over to stand under the porch light. "Yes, I do. I was speaking to Dino Arbogast on Tuesday night. This woman came out of his house and she definitely wasn't there for a Bible study, if you know what I mean. She draped herself all over him like a rash."

"Okay. I'll talk to him." Mac took back his phone and made a note. "Thanks, Frank. See you in the morning. Sleep well."

"Oh, I will!" Frank ran to catch up with his sons inside the house.

"Oh, Jamie, thank God you're okay!" Finally letting go of his emotions, Danny dragged Jamie into a full body hug. Frank stood back, realising that his older son needed this moment to get himself together. "Are you okay? What happened? How badly are you hurt? Let me look at you." He held Jamie at arm's length and then pulled him back in.

"Danny?" Jamie whispered, his mouth full of Danny's jacket, against which he was pressed extremely tightly. "Can you let me go? I kinda like breathing, and you did promise Mac I'd look more alive in the morning, not less. I'm going to hold you to that."

"Oh, sorry." Danny let him go. "Come in here." He steered his younger brother into the living room. "How are you? Are you hurt?"

"Stop!" Jamie yelled. He took a deep breath as he sunk into the armchair his Dad had pulled out for him. "Can I have a drink of water, please?"

Danny moved off and Frank grinned. "Too soon for smothering, huh?"

"You can talk," Jamie huffed. "I'll be the wrong side of fifty before you let me out of your sight again!"

Frank laughed. "Guilty as charged."

"Charged with what?" Danny inquired as he reappeared and passed Jamie his drink.

Jamie emptied his glass in one mouthful. "Nothing you need to worry about, brother dear. Is Linda around?"

"She's just on the phone to Pop. Why? Are you hurt?" Danny asked for the third time in as many minutes.

Jamie put up his hands in a surrender gesture. "It's just self-preservation. I was checked out by the paramedics at the scene, but I know you two. You two won't be convinced until you see it for yourself. Hence, Linda."

"That would be me!"

Jamie turned at the new voice and beamed. "My saviour! Hurry up and tell them there's nothing wrong so they'll shut up," he urged his sister-in-law.

Linda laughed. "My pleasure." She asked a few quick questions, flexed a few of Jamie's joints, and probed some suspiciously sore spots. "Not a mark on you that won't wash off or fade away," she finally pronounced.

"Are you sure?" Frank waved a hand toward the computer. "How can someone be trussed up tighter than a turkey for hours on end, and not be injured? You saw the DVD. He should at least have joint dislocations, shouldn't he?"

"Obviously it looked worse than it actually was, because he doesn't." Linda patted Jamie's arm. "Rest easy for a few days and you'll be fine."

"How many is a few?" Frank prodded.

Linda sighed indulgently. "If you're asking as a worried father, I'd say three or four days bed rest. If you're asking as the Police Commissioner, I'd say none of this is official."

"Great!" Jamie groaned. "I guess I'm off to the hospital then."

"Are you rostered on tomorrow?" Frank asked.

"No." Jamie's answer was short and clipped.

"So you'll rest tomorrow and we'll reassess the day after that," Frank decided.

"You mean, you'll reassess," Jamie muttered.

"Coffee, anyone?" Linda offered, desperately wanting to break the tension.

"Yes, please," the three man chorused. As Linda left, so did Danny and Frank. Jamie's eyes danced around the room. He was surprised to feel just a little unnerved about suddenly being alone. Luckily, before the thoughts could overwhelm him, his brother and father returned.

"What on earth?" he demanded as they began tucking pillows and blankets around him, stuffing them into every corner of the chair that they could find.

"Trade-off for waiting to go to the doctor is that we get to fuss tonight," Frank stated.

Knowing there was nothing he could do about it, Jamie mumbled his gratitude and slumped back into the mountain of pillows, his eyes already closing.

"So, are you staying here tonight or going to Dad's?" Danny asked.

"I think we should all go to Frank's," Linda put in as she came through the door with a tray of coffees and a plate of cake. "We need to pick up the boys anyway, and they're going to want to make sure you're okay."

"You didn't tell them, did you?" Jamie squeaked, his eyes opening wide.

"No," Linda assured him as she sat down by Danny and relaxed into his hug. "I told Pop."

"Great!" Jamie groaned, rolling over and hiding himself in the blankets. "More fussing!"

The four of them shared a hearty laugh before Jamie released a deep shiver that curled his toes.

"You okay?" Linda asked.

"Yeah, just cold and exhausted," he admitted. "Since I only want to go through this story twice, and one of them's going to be tomorrow, can we get going to Dad's soon? I just want to get it over with." Jamie struggled to his feet and then paused. "Are you sure you're okay, Danny? You did just get out of hospital."

"I'm fine," Danny assured him. "Let's go see my boys and show everyone you're alright before we get our door banged down."

"Everyone?" Jamie questioned with a groan.

"Everyone," Frank confirmed. "Whose car are we taking?"

"Considering you got dropped off, I think we're taking mine." Danny threw his car keys to his wife and went to his brother's aid. "I call shotgun!"

They all piled into Danny's car. The journey was largely silent except for Jamie's snores as he leant on his father's shoulder and dozed in the back seat, and Danny singing along with the radio, which were both cut off by their arrival at the large home that was their destination.

"That's Daddy!" Jack jumped up from his post by the window.

"Does he have Uncle Jamie with him? Is he hurt?" Sean spouted the questions as he crowded to the window for a look. Then he ran to the door and jerked it open. "It is Daddy! And Mommy, and Grandpa, and Uncle Jamie."

"Good, then maybe we'll get some answers out of them," Erin muttered. She'd called Danny multiple times during the afternoon and was severely underwhelmed at the amount of information she'd been given. _Or not given._

"Have you guys had dinner?" Danny greeted the group as a whole after he had disentangled himself from his son's enthusiastic greetings.

"Pop didn't know how long you'd be, so Mom and I ordered in. We've already eaten. Yours in the oven," called Nicky as she and Frank helped Jamie to the sofa amid his vociferous protests.

To Danny's disgust, Erin steered him in the same direction.

"Since it's a special occasion, I think we can eat in the living room," Pop announced as he, Jack, and Linda came out of the kitchen with their arms full of laden trays.

"I thought you'd already eaten?" Danny raised his eyebrow at the dishes, cutlery, and copious amounts of food.

"I'm still hungry." Sean piled his plate up and settled between his father and uncle.

"Aren't you always?" Danny teasingly poked his younger son in the stomach. Sean wriggled and poked out his tongue.

After the laughter died down, Jamie spoke up. "Before anybody starts, I'm putting a veto on all talk about me until after we're all finished and the dishes are done."

"I second the motion." Danny stuck his hand up in the air.

"Sounds fair," Frank agreed. "So what's everyone else been doing today?"

"Um, school?" Sean said cheekily.

"And what exactly did you learn there, Mr Smarty Pants?" Frank shot back at him.

The boy pointed to his mouth and kept chewing studiously on the Reuben sandwich he was eating. Frank rolled his eyes and surveyed his trio of grandchildren ranged around the coffee table. He focused on Nicky. "How about you?"

 _Me? I just want to know that we're all safe and this nightmare is over!_ "I used my free and English periods to finish my submission for the audition on Saturday."

"Audition for what?"

"DeWitt Tompkins is writing another book, and this time he's holding a competition. We have to write a 1000-word essay explaining who our character is, and act out a ten-minute scene that portrays a defining moment for our character." Her eyes shone. "Someone's ideas get to be the inspiration for a character in his book."

"Do we get a preview?"

"Who's DeWitt Tompkins?"

These two questions were simultaneously asked by Jamie and Henry. Erin answered Jamie. "I doubt it. She's been working on the darn thing for weeks and I've never even got a peek."

"DeWitt Tompkins is an author of Young Adult fiction. He's already written three stand-alone novels. I've bought and read the first two. Obviously he's about to start his fourth." Nicky's forkful of spaghetti and meatballs fell onto the carpet as she enlightened her grandfather. "Oops." She put her plate on the coffee table and stood. "Back in a minute."

"So it's back to you two. Anything exciting happen today?" Danny nudged Jack with his toes and lifted his chin at Sean. They both shook their heads.

"I was too busy watching the clock, counting the minutes until I could get home and see you." Sean glared angrily at Jamie. "Then you called them. You chose today of all days to need their help! What was wrong? You need to pick out a suit for a hot date or something?"

"Sean Fergus Reagan!"

"Danny, sit down," Jamie pulled his brother back then spoke to his nephew. "I was kidnapped today and held for a few hours. As Grandpa would say, "trussed up tighter than a Thanksgiving turkey for hours on end". Definitely not a hot date." He showed Sean the marks on his wrists.

There was a lengthy silence in which the carpet cleaner Nicky was using spilled all over the floor and Sean silently fingered Jamie's then hesitantly ventured a question.

"Was it the same person that attacked Dad?"

"We don't know yet." Jamie bit into a piece of fried chicken. "Now, stop breaking the embargo, kid." He nudged Sean's leg with the back of his hand and slung an arm around his shoulders, then changed his focus to Jack. "What about you? Didn't you have some sort of try out thing today? Something to do with science."

Jack's eyes brightened. "The King's County interschool science fair. One student per grade per school competing there for a place in the State competition, then Nationals."

"And?"

Jack squirmed at being the centre of attention. "I won my grade," he admitted softly.

The room erupted with the sounds of congratulations and compliments. After a toast to Jack's success, they toasted to Danny's health, and then Jamie's safe return.

"Speaking of which, what exactly did happen?" Erin enquired.

Quietly, Jamie told his tale. He left nothing out. He knew the only way they would all heal was if everybody knew everything.

By the end, Sean was standing in front of him and crying. "I'm sorry I was rude before."

"You're forgiven. Just remember to get all the facts next time before you accuse someone, okay?"

Sean nodded. Jamie patted the seat next to him, so Sean joyfully reclaimed it and the hug he'd just vacated. He listened closely as the adults continued discussing the events of the day, and his eyes slowly closed.

"Jamie, are you okay, son?" Frank indicated the sleeping boy. Jamie nodded.

"I think it's time for us to leave anyway." Danny looked at his watch. "It's nearly midnight and the boys have school in the morning."

"Are you sure that's wise?" Henry picked up a pile of plates and put them on a tray. "Surely they deserve a day off under the circumstances."

"We'll think about it," Linda promised.

"Think about it while I'm packing up some leftovers for you." Frank lifted some platters of food and followed his father into the kitchen.


	24. Chapter 24

As Danny Messer and the team pulled up to the house they were greeted by Officer Josiah Nye, who had been left behind to help guard the scene.

"Boy, you guys are fast!" he praised. "Detective Taylor can't have called you any more than twenty minutes ago."

"We'd have made it in 15, if Don had let me drive," Danny complained.

"Your guys can go now," Don ordered Josiah. "All except one to guard the driveway to prevent unwanted intruders. You up for it?" Josiah nodded. "Good." Don gave over his phone number. "If anyone turns up, don't let them go. Ring me."

The team entered the house through the garage, greeting the departing cops as they left. Since they weren't under any time constraints anymore, they stuck together as they worked to gather evidence.

"Fresh tire marks." Jo took photos then bent down. "Someone came into here at a great rate of knots." She looked forward, stood up and took some more photos. "Maybe that's what punched this hole into the wall."

"But if it was her car, where is it now? She was killed here, remember?" Danny pointed upstairs.

"Maybe one of those two people who were pretending to be Mason's Sergeant and Officer Dunnery?" Adam suggested. "I did prove those callers were fakers, remember?"

"Did you get any matches in the voice database?" Adam shook his head at Lindsay's query. "And we have no idea what the car looks like either," she observed dispiritedly.

There wasn't much more of interest to be found in the garage, so they moved onto the other half of the lower floor, the room where Jamie had been held in the first D V D. Everything there was as they expected. They found the music box and chocolate wrappers, as well as biological samples and fingerprints on both sets of shackles, the floor and the door. They also found drag marks along the floor and fibers both on the door and all the shackles.

After everything was bagged and tagged, they went upstairs.

"FBI! Come out with your hands up!" Danny and Jo drew their guns and, flanked by Don and Lindsay, approached the room where the shooting had occurred. Slowly a cop appeared with his arms raised. "Who are you?" Danny demanded.

"Officer Nic Porter. Detective Taylor asked me to guard the body until his team arrived. May I see your IDs please?" After viewing all four, he nodded. "Mine's in my pocket."

"No need." Lindsay waved her phone. "I called Mac. He corroborates your story."

"Okay. Since you were here, you can walk us through what happened, then you can go join the other cop who's guarding the driveway." Just then Don's phone rang and he stepped away to answer it.

At Lindsay's direction Nic narrated the story, Don returned in the middle of it and waited patiently for the cop to finish.

"I'll walk you down," he offered. "Our Medical Examiners are here." He walked Nic out.

Shortly thereafter Sid Hammerback and Sheldon, who sometimes worked as Sid's assistant, came through the door.

"Whoever hired the interior decorator should be fired, along with the actual interior decorator. Seriously, what's with all the colours? Along with everything out there, in this room there's lime green trimmings and purple paisley patterned wallpaper." Sid blinked his eyes rapidly and rubbied them. "Mind you, it looks like someone's tried to get rid of it."

Danny went to the windows and inspected them. "Nah, the ripped wallpaper's just proof that the glazier isn't any better than the decorator. Windows don't open, and there must be a leak. The walls are streaked with water marks, the carpet's damp, and the paints wrinkled and peeling."

"That'd explain the overwhelming dust and mould smell that's emanating from just about everywhere," Sid observed.

"Where's Don?" asked Jo, looking past them into the passage.

"Still down the driveway. He's talking to a potential witness."

Sid and Sheldon bent over the body. "Two gunshot wounds, one to the shoulder and one to the head," Sheldon reported.

Sid dug into the wounds, extracted the bullets and put them into a plastic dish. He passed them to Lindsay.

Sheldon poked each wound tract with a plastic rod. "Each of them came from approximately 6 to 8 feet away in a front on direction. Angle of entry means the shooters were of average height, about six foot, give or take a couple of inches."

"That confirms what Nic said." Lindsay quickly relayed what they'd been told to Sheldon and Sid. "She said she was standing on that mark over there with her arm around Jamie's throat and a gun to his head. She was about an inch taller than him."

Sid turned the body. "There's another gunshot wound. This one's to the back of the neck. It's far more likely to the kill shot, too. The one to the shoulder wouldn't have hit anything vital, and the other head shot was off center and too shallow to do anything worse than severe incapacitation." He pulled out the bullet and inspected it. "Also, and far more scarily, it's not from a cop's gun."

"And how exactly do you know that?" Danny asked.

"Was the witness any good?" The group turned as one perplexed unit until they saw Don.

"Possibly," he said in reply to Sheldon's question. "I got a description of a car, which is possibly the one she drives, and the name of a real estate agency which is possibly the one she works for. The witness couldn't be certain since they never actually came down here. They just looked through their kitchen window."

"Awesome! Now, back to the topic at hand," Danny urged impatiently. "Doc, how do you know that bullet's not from a cop's gun?"

Sheldon held his prize high. "Those ones are gold coloured. This one is grey." He put the plastic rod into the wound and whistled. "And there's no way she was shot from the front. The angle's all wrong. For her to have been shot there by someone in this room, the shooter would have had to be behind her and hovering in the air about a foot or two above her. Someone else was definitely here."

Don followed the rod's path until it vanished into an air vent that none of them had taken any particular notice of before. He disappeared and came back with a chair. Climbing onto it, he examined the broken vent. "There's nothing here but a disturbance in the dust." He pulled the cover off and passed it down. "Someone bag this. We can analyse it back at the Lab. In the meantime, we have to figure out why someone would put a dummy vent in an outside wall, and why someone would murder someone through it."

"The first could simply be a case of more shoddy workmanship. As for the second, maybe Mac can get us some answers." Jo pulled out her phone and keyed in a number. "Mac? We've got some questions for your suspect."

Mac was at the Lab finishing off his reports on the kidnapping. After he'd returned from dropping Jamie off, he'd contemplated going straight to Mason with a photo of the deceased kidnapper, but he'd decided not to. Instead he waited until he heard from his team. _I'll bombard her with questions instead of drip feeding them. She'll have less time to think that way and maybe she'll let something slip._ He listened to the M E's theories and groaned. On the one hand, he was glad it looked like none of Theo's people was responsible for taking a life. On the other hand, it meant that a mystery person had witnessed what had happened and had murdered for it. "Time for Mason to pay me another visit." He called ahead and had Mason brought to the interview room he'd used earlier.

"Do you know this woman?" He slapped a photo of the dead woman on the desk in front of his prisoner.

Chained to the chair, Mason leaned forward as far as the chains would let her. "Her name's Adeline Hanson. She's my real estate agent. She's the one who showed me that house in that second DVD you showed me. Is she the one who kidnapped Jamie? Is she trying to frame me?"

Mac ignored her questions. "Why is there a dummy air vent in the outer wall of the secret room?"

"What secret room?"

 _Either she's a damn good actress or she's telling the truth,_ Mac admitted silently. "So if you didn't order Adeline Hanson killed, who was standing outside that air vent, lying in wait to murder her?"

"I don't know!" Mason howled.

"One last question. Why are you so interested in a house with such prominent mould and water leakage issues?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about. That house is in pristine condition."

Frustrated, Mac signalled for Mason to be taken back to the cells. On the way, she tried to make conversation with the officer who was transporting her.

"You a transfer?"

"What business is that of yours?" he snapped, tightening his grip around her bicep.

"Just trying to be friendly," Mason appeased him. "I've only been employed here a few months and I've only seen you around in the last couple of weeks. Wondered what your backstory was, that's all."

"Sorry," he apologised. "My name's Song Bayliss. Employed here, huh?" Then why am I escorting you back to the cells?"

"Misunderstanding, that's all," Mason blinked her eyes and two lone tears made her cheeks shimmer. "Song? Where did that come from?"

Bayliss laughed bitterly. "People don't usually ask me that. They're too politically correct, scared of being racially offensive, you know? They presume it's a cultural gift from my Korean mother. In reality, I blame my father. His last foray into hippyism was to name his firstborn son. That's me, by the way."

Mason giggled. "People are stupid, aren't they?"

"Misunderstanding?" Bayliss prompted.

She looked at him and burst into tears. "It's all a mistake," she howled. "I wasn't even there! It's a clear case of mistaken identity. Somebody is framing me. I couldn't have done what they said I did!"

"It's okay, I believe you," he soothed her. "Just tell me all about it and I'll sort it all out for you."

"It's a long story." Mason stumbled and Bayliss stopped while she regained her balance.

"So we walk slow, take a few detours." Song directed his prisoner down a side corridor to the left. Over the next quarter of an hour, he heard a tale of love, the desire to protect, and revenge against evil. By the end of it, the pair were standing in front of an exit door.

"As far as I can tell, you haven't broken any laws. Go out there. It opens into an alley. Nobody will even know."

Mason didn't protest. If the guy wanted to risk his job, that was his choice. She nodded her thanks, twisted the knob, heaved a sigh of relief when it opened, and slipped out into the darkness.

Holding her breath and pinching her nose between her fingers, she navigated the usual New York City alley obstacles of homeless people, household rubbish, fresh and dried human and animal excrement, and even an abandoned vehicle or two. She put a couple of city blocks between her and the precinct before she found a hard bench to sit on. She hugged her knees to her chest. _How had they found out?_ She rotated her body away from the street. She didn't want to be recognised by any of her workmates, should they wander by. Not that they would care. She would be arrested, humiliated, charged, put on trial, and found guilty, all for protecting a fellow cop. Not that they would see it that way. _They'll hear the word "bomber" and automatically brand me a terrorist. I'll be hung, drawn, quartered and then shot by a firing squad, no questions asked._ Mason lamented the day she met Police Commissioner Frank Reagan's youngest son. Standing up, she quickly but casually made her way to the nearest bus station. _I will not be beaten. One way or another, I will make Danny Reagan pay._

Unbeknown to her, Maria Baez was thinking much the same thing about her. Mac had ordered her home, but Baez was too keyed up to sit in front of the T V and watch whatever drivel was on. So she decided to pay a visit to Precinct 12.

She marched up to the reception desk that lead to the holding cells, intent on making the suspect talk. The woman had torn apart the lives of her partner's family and she'd better have a damn good reason, or there'd be hell to pay.

"What do you mean she's gone?" she demanded. "She was being held on suspicion of kidnapping Jamie Reagan, the Police Commissioner's youngest son. She's also suspected of being involved with whoever tried to kill Detective Danny Reagan. He's the eldest son of the Police Commissioner, in case you don't know. This woman could have injured both living sons of the NYPD's highest official. How on earth did she escape?"

"She didn't escape. She was never here." The desk clerk showed Danny's partner the computer log that listed the influx of arrested persons for that day. They were right. Mason Dunnery's name did not appear on the list.

"You'll be hearing from the Police Commissioner about this," she promised menacingly before pulling her phone out. "Detective Taylor? Detective Baez here. We have a problem."


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N:** I did write a sequel to this story. But I'm now rewriting it while doing my writing class, and it's a lot better than the first draft. I expected to post it directly after I finished posting this one, but that's now highly unlikely. I hope it'll be worth the wait.

 **Newbie:** I'm glad you enjoyed the "Elevator Flashback" scene. There are not going to be any more direct flashback scenes in this story, but stay tuned for the sequel. I do know that the subject rears its ugly head again there!

Linda flicked a piece of hair back from her forehead. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"I think it's a great idea."

"And you promise you'll get plenty of rest?"

Danny adjusted the eye patch. _Can't wait to get rid of this stupid thing!_ "Can't imagine Jamie will be up for running marathons today, any more than I will."

"So sofa rest and television then?"

Danny nodded, rapped twice on the door and walked in.

"Hey!" Henry greeted his grandson and granddaughter-in-law with a hug. "You can't have got much sleep." He looked pointedly at the clock. "It's not even nine o'clock yet. Coffee?"

"Linda had to get to work and the boys insisted on going to school. So I had to wake up before I was ready and come now or spend the day at home, alone." Danny swiped his brow with the back of his hand and swooned. "The sacrifices we men make for our families!"

"He's on strict medical instructions." Linda told Henry of the conversation she'd had with her husband in the car. "How's Jamie?"

"Still sleeping." The three adults sat around the dining room table sipping their hot drinks. "I'm glad you're here, Danny. That boy-"

"Is awake." At the sound, Linda and Henry both got up, Linda to hug her brother-in-law and Henry to fetch him a drink.

"Hey, Bro." Danny greeted his brother. "Bad night, huh?"

Jamie laid his head in his arms and sighed. Then he sat up and accepted the hot beverage. "Thanks, Pop. And, no, Danny. My night wasn't 'bad' as such. Just annoyingly uncomfortable. Couldn't settle, couldn't sleep, couldn't stop thinking. You know the drill."

Seeing Danny about to make a sarcastic reply, Linda spoke up. "Are you still in pain?"

"Bit stiff," Jamie admitted. "Not surprising, since I was probably hogtied and gagged most of yesterday. I was going to slip into the hot tub. But I smelt coffee, so I got dressed and came down here instead."

"Thank goodness for that." Linda got up and put her cup in the sink. "No strenuous activity today, then?"

"Not going to be running any marathons," Jamie promised. He was rather nonplussed when Danny and Linda laughed. The couple then shared a chaste kiss and Linda left.

"You need something to eat before you get in that tub otherwise you'll fall asleep and drown," Henry decided. He rattled off a menu, took Jamie's order, and gave in to Danny's pleas to make him some too.

"Want some help, Pop?" Danny offered.

"And risk the wrath of both your father and your wife? Not a hope." Henry chuckled. He hustled through the kitchen to assemble the ingredients for ham and cheese omelettes, French toast with bacon, fried vegetables, with orange waffles and hot chocolate for dessert

When he got back, the dining room was empty. He listened, grinned, and returned to the kitchen. Loading up a trolley he pushed it into the lounge room. "You two are supposed to be resting," he scolded over the noise.

"Sorry, Pop." Danny apologised as he put down the game controller. "Here, let me help you with that."

"Yee haa! I win!" Jamie crowed and pumped his fists in the air. Then he jumped up beside his brother. "Thanks, Pop!"

"For the food, or for distracting your brother?"

"Both!" Jamie grinned and speared a forkful of bacon and toast.

"Something smells good."

Henry and Jamie grinned when Mac and Frank walked in.

"What are you here for?" Danny wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

Henry threw him a cloth. "They're here for Jamie's statement."

"Is it that time already?" Jamie patted his pockets. _Damn, my phone must still be upstairs! I wonder why I didn't hear the alarm?_

"Yep. Scotch or coffee? You hungry?" Henry asked.

"Coffee's fine." Mac said.

Frank nodded his agreement. "Jamie. Are you sure you're up to this? We can come back this afternoon."

Jamie shook his head then rubbed his neck.

"Here." Henry gave Mac and Frank their drinks, then passed Jamie two pills and a glass of water. "This should help."

Jamie smiled his thanks and swallowed the medication. "Why do we need to do this? The woman who took me is dead, isn't she?"

"The woman we found you with is dead. But we have reason to believe she wasn't working alone. We need to find the other person or persons responsible. It's the only way to make sure you and your family aren't in any more danger. When you're ready," Mac prompted, laying out a recording device and clipping a microphone onto Jamie's collar.

"Nothing untoward happened that day until Erik Wilson and I had an argument in the Precinct after we returned from a crime scene," Jamie began. "He stormed out of the Precinct and I followed him to Cutler's Cafe since we were partners until the end of shift. Anyway, he seemed to be over it by the time I'd ordered my lunch and set down with him."

"What was the argument about?"

Jamie briefly narrated the incident. "You don't suspect him, do you?"

In lieu of an answer, Mac motioned for him to continue.

"Just as we were finishing our meal, Probationary Officer Mason Dunnery came up and said that Captain Mollie wanted us to split up for the afternoon. I was to go with her and Erik was to wait for Caelson. I threw out the rest of my meal. Best 'Burger and Fries with the works' I've had since Mom," he mourned. "I exited by the side door that leads into Montwell Plaza. I've often wondered who named it that. It's pretty small to be called a Plaza in my opinion."

Recognising the change of topic as a diversionary tactic, Mac pulled him back on track. "Where was Officer Dunnery at that time?"

Jamie took a deep breath. "She'd gone out the same door about thirty seconds before me. I was approached by four youths, three male and one female, aged between sixteen and twenty. They got between me and her and distracted me for a few minutes when they started singing acapella a song that reminded me of stuff." He swallowed.

"Acapella? Stuff?" Danny ignored his father's glare.

"Without music, Grandma Betty. Oh, and they were dressed like members of a local street gang. So I initially had my hand on my gun. But I relaxed. I shouldn't have, I know I shouldn't have and I'm sorry." He buried his face in his hands. Danny laid a gentle hand on his brother's back to calm him. A couple of seconds later a glass was nudged into his hand. He gulped it down, spluttered and choked. "That's not water!"

"Thought you could do with something stronger. Don't worry, it's not enough to interfere with the painkillers." Frank clinked his coffee mug against Jamie's empty whiskey glass.

"I'll need the name of the song and the gang," Mac interjected.

"What are you going to do? Storm their headquarters and get everybody to sing it without words?" Danny joked.

"If I need to."

"As I started walking to the car, I pulled out my phone. But before I could use it I saw a body under the bushes. I must have got jumped when I went to check it out. One second I was crouched down next to a drug addict, the next I woke up manacled to a wall."

"Where were you hit? Front or back?" Mac leaned forward.

"I don't know." The creases in his forehead deepened and his cheeks hollowed out. "Back. I don't remember being hit, but I do remember the paramedics treating a laceration on the back of the skull."

"That could also be from you hitting your head if you fell backwards," Frank reminded him.

Jamie's whole body slumped. "I don't know then."

"Can you tell me anything about your attacker?" Mac read the next question on the list.

Jamie shook his head. "I can tell you that the drug addict was female, white, bald, missing a tooth on the left side, and she had a tourniquet and needle sticking out of her left arm. Definitely not the woman in the second room."

Jamie described the room he was first kept in as well as he could. "After a while, someone came in and forced me to drink something. When I woke up, I was in that other room."

"Do you think that person was either your attacker or the woman in the second room?"

Jamie closed his eyes. "If they were female, possibly the woman in the second room?" he said uncertainly. "Similar height and build, anyway."

"Any distinctive smells, textures, or tastes at any time?"

"The second room was really musty. I'm amazed anybody's interested in buying that house. It's got a major mould issue."

"What about around the time you were attacked?"

Even though Jamie's eyes were closed, everyone could see his eyeballs moving downward in defeat. "Nothing, sorry. Not even the clichéd chloroform smell."

"Stop apologising!" Henry admonished. "You're doing the best you can."

"What about from the Plaza to the house? How long did it take to get there? Was is bumpy? Smooth? Were you in a van or a car? Trunk or seat?" Danny fired questions at machine gun pace.

"I was drugged, out of it, dead to the world," Jamie snapped.

"But surely-"

"Surely nothing." Henry shut Danny down abruptly.

"I think that's all for now." Mac stopped the recording device and unclipped Jamie's microphone. "I'll call you if we need anything else or have any news." He shook hands with everybody. "Frank, are you coming with me?"

"I'll drop him back," Henry offered. "I have to go to the shops. We're having a midweek family dinner tonight. We deserve after the week we've had."

Frank nodded. _Message heard and received, Pop. Don't be late. My family needs me here more than the investigation needs me anywhere else._

During the interview, Danny yearningly glanced multiple times at the TV screen. Jamie's screen name, Adrastus Aeacus, flashed mockingly at the top of the "Best Scores" list. Oh, how Danny longed to wipe it away! But he knew he'd be in big trouble if the dishes were left unwashed in lieu of entertainment, orders or no orders. So when they'd finished he reluctantly piled up the dishes and directed Jamie out to the hot tub. Overthrowing Adrastus Aeacus would have to wait an hour or two. "I'll join you soon."

True to his word, he loaded up the dishwasher, stripped to his shorts, and was slipping into the water before the heat had had a chance to work its magic on Jamie's muscles.

"You gonna go commando?" Jamie raised his eyebrows.

"Nah, zips hurt too much."

"Sunbathing it is then."

They floated together in comfortable silence for the duration of four songs from Danny's iPod.

"So, have you forgiven Dad yet?"

"I gave him a hug yesterday." Danny brought his hand down sharply, causing water to splash over both Jamie and the patio.

"Let me guess. You'd just found out I was kidnapped and you were fearing for my safety." Jamie sat up and looked his brother in the eye.

"Something like that." Danny shrugged. "It doesn't matter anyway. I'm home now, so I can look after my family myself."

"It does matter," Jamie corrected him. "It matters because he's family."

Danny stepped out of the pool. "I know. We're okay, honest. I'm going for a beer. You want one?"

"Are you sure that's wise?" Jamie squinted as the sun haloed Danny's head.

"Yes, I'm sure." Danny's voice hardened. "This way, when I lie awake in bed tonight, I can blame the headaches on my own choice, not on that of some crazy whacko. Do you want one, or don't you?"

"Sure."

When Danny returned, he handed Jamie an open drink and they both sat on the patio steps to dry off.

Danny cringed when he saw the marks on Jamie's wrists and ankles. "I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"This all my fault. The bombing, the kidnapping, all of it. I put you, Linda, Jack, Sean, and heaven knows who else in danger." Danny swallowed half the can in one go.

"I said the same thing to Dad the other night." Jamie sipped his.

"Oh yeah? And how did he react to that little bit of information?"

Jamie grinned and set his beer down. He grabbed Danny around the back, tipped him over, smacked him on the ass twice and ran away laughing.

"Hey!" Danny scrambled up from his knees. He glanced longingly at the spilled beer but decided to run after Jamie instead.

"You asked, I answered!" Jamie taunted.

Danny stopped. "Seriously? He spanked you?" he chortled

Jamie whirled around. "You call that a spanking?"

Danny considered all the times he'd got his own butt tanned. "You got a point. If it was a spanking, I'd have heard you bawling all the way from the hospital. And since I didn't it's not."

"Exactly." Jamie faced Danny with his hands on his hips. "I'm also going to tell you exactly what dad told me. N _obody_ would have been hurt if the crimes hadn't been committed. No bomber, no bomb. No bomber, no injuries. No bomber, no hospital. No bomber, no danger. And no kidnapper, no kidnapping either by the way." He wagged his finger. "Not that they've found a correlation between the two crimes apart from the fact that Trixie and Mason were realtor and prospective buyer. Yes, Eddie told me about that. But there's no evidence yet to suggest they worked together. Neither is there any evidence of criminal activity at your home or work. As far as we know those instances were just a consequence of old age." Laughing some more, he took off again before Danny could catch him. They rounded the house, where they almost ran into Henry as he approached the front steps.

"You two are supposed to be resting!" he castigated.

"He started it!" Danny pointed at Jamie.

"You chased me!"

"You ran!"

"Well, now you both can get your butts inside and help me get things ready for tonight." Henry shifted the grocery bags he was holding into a more comfortable position, before walking inside with his two grandsons following close behind.


	26. Chapter 26

"Dino Arbogast is here."

"Thank you, Baker." Frank smiled at his personal aide. But the smile dropped away when his Chief Of Departments entered. "Dino, I believe you've met Detective Mac Taylor."

"Yes, I have. Nice to see you again, Detective. Twice in one day. To what do I owe the pleasure?" Dino sat in the empty seat across the desk from Frank.

"Mac informs me that he asked you to identify this woman," Frank showed him a photo of the dead kidnapper. "And you refused?"

"Hold it!" Dino stood up, his fists clenched, and turned to Mac, who was sitting to his right. "I did not refuse! I said I didn't know her. And that's the truth!"

"No it isn't," Frank intervened. "This is the same woman I saw coming out of your house on Tuesday night, the same woman who draped herself all over you like a sofa cover. Are you really going to tell me that you let women you've never even met get that close to you?"

"I never said I never met her!" Dino protested. "I said I didn't know who she is. Different kettle of fish altogether."

"Oh, how so?" Frank raised his eyebrows. _This oughta be good._

"She's an informant on an undercover case. Whenever she has information for me, she visits with another officer who knows her identity and vouches for her." Dino sat down again. "When I asked her for her name, she said it was Ginger. I knew she was lying. Ergo, Detective Taylor, I was telling you the truth. I don't know who this woman is." He took another, longer look at the photo. "She's dead? She's really dead?"

Mac nodded. "That a problem?"

"It's always a problem whe in an important case dies," Dino informed him loftily.

"You may go." Frank hoped Dino would go before someone, namely Mac, decided to deck him. "Feel free to stick around until he's left the building," he invited the detective. "I just have to make a phone call."

"I'll go, then." Mac shook Frank's hand and gathered up his belongings. "I'll make some calls regarding our mystery Ginger and get back to you."

"Hi, Erin." Frank waved as Mac opened the door to leave. "I need your advice on something."

"Sure, Dad, as long as I can talk while I'm driving. I'm on my way to pick up Sean and take him home."

"Hi, Grandpa!" Frank smiled as he heard his older grandson's voice call out.

"Hi Jack!" he called back. "Okay, Erin. It's not urgent. Just give me a ring when you can. Give my love to the boys, and remember, Danny and Jamie are both at mine."

"Will do. Talk to you later." Erin disconnected the call. _What a day for both the boys to be finishing school early,_ she thought as she parked the car as close to Sean's classroom as she could. _If only Nicky was available to help._ _With two invalids and two clingy but hyperactive kids, I'm going to have my hands full._ She silently cursed her daughter's drive to stay on the Honor Roll, which saw the teen taking extra classes two afternoons a week. Nicky would only just get to Frank's in time for the family dinner.

"Hi, Aunt Erin!" Sean ran toward the car. "Where's Jack?"

"Where do you think?" Erin took the boy's backpack and placed it in the trunk of the car.

"He's in the front."

"Got it in one!" Jack crowed.

"Thanks for picking us up, Aunt Erin." Sean buckled his seatbelt and greeted his brother before returning his attention to his aunt. "Can we go to Whitecliff park for a while before going to Pop's?"

"Mom's going to be at work for another couple of hours at least, and Dad's probably sleeping." Jack jumped on the bandwagon. "Which would you rather do? Try to keep Sean quiet for three hours or take us to the park and let him run his energy off?" He stuck his own tongue out at Sean when the younger boy stuck his tongue out at him.

Ignoring their antics, Erin guided the car onto the road. "You okay with telling your Mom why you haven't done your homework? She won't be too happy about it, you know that, don't you?"

"What if we promise to do both before she gets home?" Jack wheedled.

"Okay," Erin capitulated. _It'll give me a chance to ring Dad back without anyone overhearing me_ , she reasoned with herself. She winced and barely avoided bumping into another car as both boys hollered their enthusiastic gratitude. "Settle down, or the only place we'll be going is the morgue!" she warned, only half joking.

Sean rummaged around in his bag and handed a piece of paper to Jack. "Test me on my spelling words while we're driving?" he entreated.

"Sure." Jack took the proffered list. "Eighth."

" H."

"Right. Pronounce."

" E."

"Nope. Try again. Pronounce."

Sean scowled. "Pro Nounce. E."

"Right. Vengeance."

The journey past uneventfully as Erin concentrated on driving and Jack quizzed his brother.

"Here we are." Erin pulled up at the gates of Whitecliff Park, a council reserve which housed a manmade lake, walking paths, outdoor grilling areas, multiple children's playgrounds, and lawns perfect for sports games. It was to one of these that the boys headed with a baseball bat and ball. Erin sat on a bench nearby.

"I've just got some phone calls to make, then I'll join you," she called. She dialed her Dad's office. When Baker put her through to him, she got right down to business. "I don't have much time. I'm supposed to be playing baseball. What do you need?" She listened in disgust as Frank relayed the Dino situation and asked for her legal advice.

"What was your gut reaction?"

"Dismissal."

"On what grounds?"

"Stupidity."

"Well, is that's the best you can come up with, thank goodness you didn't do it!" Erin exclaimed. "That would have been inviting a lawsuit for unfair dismissal. "Did you tell anybody else about this?"

"No."

"Good. Did you warn him that could be a consequence, or threaten him with it?"

"Both."

A D A Erin Reagan-Boyle let out a frustrated huff. She had better things to do than trying to extract blood out of a stone. Like playing baseball with her nephews. _"_ _Why_ do you keep giving me one-word answers?"

"Because."

 **Erin could hear the amusement in her father's tone and it just served to** irritate her more. "Will you please stop giving me only one word answers?"

 **She wasn't surprised to hear the answer** "No."

"Then ring me back when you will." She was just about to hang up on her father when her attention was diverted by Sean sprinting across the field toward her. "Dad, I've got to go. I'll ring you back." Before Frank could answer, Erin's phone was back in her bag. "Sean?"

In between his gulps for air, Sean wheezed out, "Boy. Fallen. Not conscious."

Grabbing her bag, Erin followed Sean to the scene of the accident.

"Hurry!"

Hearing Jack's frantic calls, Erin and Sean ran faster and slid the last few inches on their knees.

Erin threw her phone at Sean. "Ring the ambulance." She felt for a pulse.

"He's breathing," Jack reported, his ear over the boy's mouth, and his eyes searching for any movement of his chest or diaphragm.

"He's got a pulse, too." She took the phone from Sean just as the call was answered. "Ambulance, please. Whitecliff Park, Gate Three, Sylvie field." She gave the address, and then her phone number just in case the call got disconnected. She looked up as Jack started gesticulating wildly. "We've come across a teenage male, unconscious, but breathing. I originally thought he'd fallen, but my nephew's just brought my attention to bleeding from his back. Yes, he's lying on it." She put the phone down on the ground and spoke to the boys. "We have to move him into the recovery position so we can see why he's bleeding." When it was done, she grabbed the phone. "He's been stabbed! Yes, my nephews are trying to stem the flow with their clothing. His color's good, he's still breathing and he hasn't vomited. I can hear the sirens. My nephew has gone to the parking to show them where we are."

With the situation finally under control, Erin was finally able to get the full story from Jack and Sean. She was just about to start questioning them when she was approached by a policewoman.

"Are you the one who reported this incident?"

"Yes, I am. My nephews discovered him while they were playing baseball."

"You weren't with them at the time?"

"I was just over the hill on the park bench, well within shouting distance," Erin said defensively.

"I'll have to talk to them, then."

"What do you want to know?" Jack dragged his eyes away from the paramedics and focused on the cop instead.

"Tell me what happened," she instructed.

"I'm Jack Reagan. I was playing baseball with my younger brother, Sean. That's him over there." He pointed to where his brother was, still engrossed in the drama unfolding around them. "We were keeping it close while we waited for Aunt Erin to join us. It's more fun with three, and we didn't want her to beat us. So no high balls, no home runs, and if you hit out of bounds you had to go get it yourself." He pointed to where four shoes were marking out a sizeable shape on the flat top of the hill that could pass for a rectangle if you weren't very good at geometry. "It was my turn at bat, and I hit the ball down the hill. I ran after it but stopped when I saw a couple of shoes near the water. I went to investigate. Then I realised it was a kid, so I yelled to Sean to get Aunt Erin. When I couldn't rouse him, I checked his breathing, which was fine. He didn't seem to be injured so I just left him there until Aunt Erin arrived." His voice cracked. "He was on his back, so I didn't even think of checking there for injuries until I saw the blood pooling out from under him."

"You must have missed his attacker by only a few minutes. Did you see anyone around, or hear anything suspicious?"

Jack joined them and heard the query. Both boys shook their heads.

"Nothing at all?"

There was a long moment of silence as the boys thought over the minutes preceding their discovery. But the answer was still no.

"Okay." She asked Erin a few perfunctory questions, then put her notebook away.

Before she could turn away, Erin, on behalf of her nephews, had another question. "I know that even if we go to the hospital, they won't tell us anything since we're not family or friends. Is there any way we can find out who he is and how he is?"

"Ring the hospital in the morning and explain the situation," she advised. "If you give them permission to, they might pass your contact information on to his family. It will be up to them to contact you." She strode toward the ambulance.

Jack perused his brother's torn trousers and his own bloodied and ripped shirt. "Forget about homework. There goes our allowance for the next six months."


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N:** Thanks very much to _jlmayer_ for continuing to review. You are wonderful, and gorgeous, and – did I say wonderful?

 **A/N2:** I was writing a sequel to this story. Unfortunately, right near the end it imploded like a flopped soufflé and turned into a pile of male cattle manure. I will rewrite it, but it's very unlikely that it'll get posted this year -grimace- My greatest apologies!

"Why are you looking at Keith Elbourne's social media sites?"

Lindsay jumped and spun around. "Mac! Give a girl a heart attack, why don't you?" She clicked the mouse again. "He died last night, the victim of an apparently random mugging. I'm trying to see if this sheds any light on who might have done it."

"Any witnesses?"

"He was found by Erin Reagan-Boyle and her nephews."

"So we've got Jamie Reagan's kidnapper killed by a mystery gunman, and then the kid who delivered both the funeral arrangement to Danny Reagan and the evidence to us turns up dead. Coincidence?"

"Nope!" Danny joined them in the Computer Lab. "I've just come from Ballistics. The bullet that killed Elbourne is a match to the bullet that killed our kidnapper."

Mac groaned. "Great. Is there anyone in New York City who isn't gunning for the Reagans?"

"Us." Danny leaned against Lindsay's desk. "Let's hope you find a connection between the messenger and the crook, Montana."

"Let's go over what we do know." Mac crossed his arms. "When I got dressed on Thursday morning, I found Emmet K Elbourne's Round Direct Ltd business card in my back pants pocket, with specifics about the delivery, date, time, etc. written on the back of it. Jamie banged into me while I was at the hospital the night before. He must have slipped it into my pocket then. Out of curiosity, I visited the depot."

"I wondered why you were late for work," Danny commented.

"Elbourne was described the same way by every single person I talked to. Well educated, quiet, hardworking, and he apparently had a quirky sense of humour. He may look like a teenager, but he's actually twenty-four. He's single, lives alone, and nobody knew who I was talking about when I asked about Emmet. Apparently, everyone knows him as Keith."

"Nobody ever looked at his business card?" Danny raised his eyebrows. "What about whoever did the pay paperwork?"

"The pay work was handled off site and apparently the business cards were unofficial. None of them knew anything about them, and nobody else had any."

"Sound like he's a loner."

"It looks like it." Lindsay spun her chair around to face Mac and Danny. "None of his social media stuff is tagged with names or places, unless he's specifically talking to someone. I'll get Adam to check whether anything's been altered. But on the face of it, he's got very few close friends, even less family, and no pets."

"His interests?" Mac prompted.

"Cooking and art, with a little bit of medieval weaponry thrown in for good measure." Lindsay got up and fetched a picture from the printer. "This really interested me." She picked up an evidence bag from a plastic tray and gave them both to Mac. "See the icon on the top left of the flyer?" Mac examined the contents of the evidence bag and nodded. "It's the same icon that appears here." Lindsay pointed to the printed picture.

Mac scanned the flyer. "It's a competition for having a character in the next DeWitt Tompkins novel based on your ideas. But, if he's as private as all the evidence suggests, why would he enter something that necessitates not only a public appearance, but public speaking and self promotion? Also, why would he include the icon in a published work and possibly give away a winning play?"

"I wondered about that. The first would indicate that he wants this so much he's willing to completely leave his comfort zone to achieve it, the second would indicate that either that he doesn't care that much, or that advertising it gives him something he wants more. Which leads me to this." Lindsay gave him another printed sheet. "This girl appears regularly as a commenter on his art, particularly those pieces that incorporate this logo, the first of which, by the way, predates this flyer. She's also the step daughter of this DeWitt Tompkins guy. So maybe she stole it, or he gave it to her. Either way, if Elbourne got in a scuffle over it last night, that might be what got him killed. It seems to me to be a stronger motive than mugging. Even if it's not premeditated, if you attack someone and then find a smartphone worth nearly a thousand dollars plugged into their ears and a bag over their shoulders that contained a laptop, and a wallet that has over two hundred dollars cash in it, as well as a driver's licence and multiple credit cards, wouldn't you jump at the chance to score some free stuff?"

"Good point," Mac praised.

"The auditions for this thing are on today," Danny noted. "Don and Jo sure chose the wrong weekend to both be off. I'll see if I can get someone over there to investigate. Any other time I'd be dancing and clapping my hands. Right now, all I can think is 'Great, more suspects' Yay!" Danny groaned. "The person who left the flowers," he reminded them when he saw their twin looks of confusion.

Mac snapped his fingers. "That's right. As I was saying, the flowers were left outside the front door of Round Direct Ltd, but I haven't been able to track down any witnesses. The business was in a side street that gets hardly any foot traffic."

"Sounds familiar."

"Most of the employees work out the back, the receptionist was on the phone at the time. Interestingly, while I was interviewing her, Adam and Officer Janko turned up. Apparently, they'd been investigating the delivery since just after it happened. Not sure how I missed that one."

"Don't look at me!" Danny protested with his hands up.

"Stop interrupting Mac." Lindsay swatted her husband.

Mac smiled his thanks. "Adam had tracked down the name of the florist shop that compiled the arrangement and gotten a description of the customer," Mac continued. "Unfortunately, none of the Round Direct employees we spoke to could identify him. I didn't either, until yesterday."

"Yesterday? Yesterday was Friday. What happened yesterday?" Lindsay asked distractedly as she inspected a photo of three people.

"After I left from getting Jamie Reagan's statement, I met Don at the real estate agency the kidnapper worked at. The flower arrangement guy's photo was on the wall. His name's Rhys Parr, and he lives with Jamie's kidnapper. He didn't show up for work yesterday or today."

"You thinking a lover's tiff, and maybe a murder suicide?" Lindsay suggested.

"You thinking he followed her to the house we found Jamie in, killed her, and then went somewhere else and killed himself? There wasn't any sign of it at their home." Mac reminded her of what they had, or rather hadn't, found in their search the day before.

"And you two just keep piling on the suspects and motives. Because if that's the case, there's another murderer out there. Can't you start eliminating them, please?" Danny begged.

"I'll ring the Reagan brothers and see if any of 'my suspects' names ring a bell," Mac promised. "That might narrow down the list some."

"Maybe Parr killed himself after he attacked Elbourne?" Lindsay suggested. "That wouldn't take any suspects off the list, but it wouldn't add to it, either.

"Let's hope!" As Mac left, Danny leaned over his wife's shoulder to see what had caught her eye.

"I was talking to Linda Reagan, who was on duty when Emmet was brought in last night. She said that he didn't have a next of kin listed in his hospital records or an In Case of Emergency, or ICE, number in his phone. So the hospital had nobody they could call to come and sit with him or a person to notify when he died." Lindsay leaned back and snaked her arms around Danny's neck. "Maybe this elderly couple in this photo with him are related. I'm going to run them through the facial recognition software. See what I can find out."

Danny bent down and kissed her on the lips.

"Not that I'm complaining, but what was that for?"

"A complete stranger ends up dead and you go out of your way to try and find his family? You do have other things you could be doing, you know."

"Could, and probably should. But I can't help thinking about Lucy. If, God forbid, she became estranged from us, and, God forbid, she died, I'd like it if someone went above and beyond for her and us. I'm just doing for them what I'd like them to do for us." She opened up another window on the computer screen, booted up the facial recognition programme, and entered the face of the unknown woman.

"If they are who you think they are."

Lindsay shrugged. "Even if they aren't, they're obviously important to him. Of the more than three hundred photos he has online, that's one of only four photos where he deliberately appears with another human being. And they appear in two of those four photos. The other two are with people around his own age, so they can't be his parents, though they can be his siblings, I suppose." She made a mental note to check them if she got nowhere with the older couple.

"Either of you seen Mac? I can't find him." Danny and Lindsay pulled apart when Adam came into the Computer Lab.

"What do you want him for?" Danny asked suspiciously.

"I thought I'd nark on you for canoodling on company time," Adam joked.

"Then I'd better go do something constructive." Danny started thinking through the list of people he could wheedle into going to the local library to check out a boring gathering whose attendees wanted nothing more in their lives than to be characters in a book that would more than likely go out of print within five years and be forgotten within ten.

"Last we saw Mac he was heading back to his office. But before you go, I need to add to your list of tasks for the day." Lindsay explained what she needed Adam to do. "I just need to make sure nobody's hacked in or otherwise illegally altered anything that will help us solve any one of the myriad of cases he could be involved in."

"Myriad, huh?" Adam scratched his beard. "Sounds like it's more important than requesting time off. I'll get on with it now."

"Thanks." As they sat side by side and worked at their respective computer stations, Lindsay started to fill Adam in on everything that had transpired so far that morning. Unfortunately, she was interrupted when her facial recognition search got a hit. Then another. And another. "Adam, how can one woman generate three F R hits?"

"Identical triplets, maybe?"

Lindsay sighed. "I guess I'll have to ring them all." She dialled the number of the first woman. Getting the answerphone, she left a message and moved on to the second woman, who answered after two rings. "Helen Iverson? My name is Lindsay Messer and I'm calling on behalf of the New York Crime Lab."


	28. Chapter 28

**A/N:** I apologise for the long wait for this update. I had a family holiday that was followed quickly by an unexpected hospital stay and the equally unexpected death of a close friend.

* * *

I hope this chapter makes up for my extended absence -hugs-

Peter Corgain kicked the kickstand into place and checked the space around his motorcycle. Satisfied his beloved Harley wouldn't be damaged, he tucked his helmet under his arm, hitched his backpack further up his back and sauntered into the library.

"Hi," he greeted the young girl who was setting out books on a display table in the foyer. "I'm here for the DeWitt Tompkins reading and competition."

"Well, I'm not him, I'm Yana. Dad's through there." She jerked her thumb over her shoulder.

"Okay," he drawled uncertainly, picking up one of the books and speed reading the blurb on the back cover. "I guess I'll go through there then. Nice meeting you." He saluted but Yana was too preoccupied to notice.

"Yeah, whatever."

Peter entered the main room and grinned. _This is more like it,_ he thought as he inspected the Robot Royalty posters and gaudy decorations. _This is exactly what I expected a DeWitt Tompkins event to be like._ He startled as he was bumped on the arm, and automatically reached out to steady the cup that had come into contact with him.

"Sorry! There's not much room to move in here, is there? I'm Nicky Boyle."

Peter smiled. "Hi, Nicky. I'm Peter. And, yeah, there's a lot more people here than I expected."

"Most of the people I've talked to are just here for the reading. What about you? Are you here for the audition, or just to meet the creator of three of the greatest Y A fiction novels of modern times?"

"I'm definitely looking forward to the reading. What about you?"

Nicky patted her bag. "I'm excited to hear the reading, too. I'm hoping he'll do an excerpt from his latest book." She wiped her bottom lip with her tissue. "Have you had something to eat or drink? There's cold drinks and coffee set up in the kitchenette, as well as some cookies and other sweets. Feel free to help yourself, but be quick. The reading will be starting in about ten minutes."

"Thanks. Which way's the kitchenette?"

"I'll show you." She slowly guided him through the crowd, coming to rest by a plate of chocolate cake. Nicky promptly put a piece onto her plate. "That wasn't here when I was here last."

"It tastes so good!" A female arm bisected Nicky and Peter. "I can't resist. I'm Mason, by the way," she introduced herself, spraying crumbs all over Peter's sleeve. She and Nicky faced each other as she wiped them off. _Thank goodness I thought to cut my hair and dye it blonde and put in my emerald contacts. If that Nicky girl recognises me, she'd be on the phone to her boyfriend quicker than I can say "snickerdoodle". Because sure as eggs is eggs, he would have said something to her about me._

"I'm Peter Corgain, and this is my friend, Nicky Boyle." Peter smiled charmingly at his new acquaintance, and squeezed her hand, which was still stroking his forearm.

 _I thought your name was Song Bayliss?_ The words were on the tip of Mason's tongue to say but she held them back. If she challenged him, she'd have to explain where they met and she'd run the risk of Nicky figuring out who she was.

At the sound of two blasts from a foghorn, everybody made their way to the arc of chairs at the other end of the room.

"It's been very enjoyable talking with you," Peter complimented Nicky. "Much nicer than the reception I received when I got here."

Nicky screwed up her nose. "Yana's not exactly the most pleasant person I've ever met. Believe me, she makes our English teacher look like a teddy bear, and he's definitely a cactus." She walked quickly to the front, determined to snag a seat where she could both see and hear perfectly.

Peter chuckled as he moved his back row seat even further back and sat down. When he was tapped on the shoulder, he looked up and was mortified to see the subject of their discussion standing behind him.

She pointed to a sign on the double doors at his right. "Library policy."

PLEASE KEEP THESE DOORS CLEAR AT ALL TIMES, he read. Sighing, he rose and pushed the chair back to its original place and sat down again.

"Welcome everyone! It's awesome to see so many of you here today. As an author, it's nice when people buy your books, but it's far more rewarding to meet them in person."

Peter struggled not to yawn as DeWitt started to narrate his fourth standalone novel _. I thought this was supposed to be a story full of heroes and bravery and adventure, not romance and children and animals!_ He clasped his hands together and slid them between his thighs, thankful he'd developed a talent for looking like he was paying attention when his mind was miles away. His eyes strayed to the front row. _Okay, so not exactly miles away._

Finally, the ordeal was over with a standing ovation for the author.

"Thank you for coming, ladies and gentlemen. I'm glad you enjoyed listening to me. I will now call a twenty-minute intermission. Refreshments will be available again, as will a merchandise table where you can purchase my latest book. If you are here to participate in the competition, please leave your essay on the lectern." He thumped the wooden platform in dismissal.

"If he ever loses interest in writing, he should go work for a company publishing audio books." Peter grinned as Nicky neared him. "It's been really nice to meet you."

"You, too. You know, if you were staying until the end, I could take you home on my motorbike." He patted the helmet on the chair beside him.

"I don't like them."

"I could change your mind."

"I might just stick around then."

"Good," he said with a wink.

"I thought you were only staying for the reading," Nicky teased him. "What changed your mind?"

"I said I was looking forward to the reading, not that I was only staying for the reading." His voice took on an undefined hard edge that made Nicky suddenly uneasy.

"Well, good luck."

"Thanks. Not that I'm going to need it. My character's a shoo in for the part."

"You do realise that what the winner presents will only be the basis for the final product?" Nicky raised her bag. "The chances of the actual character being exactly what we present today is practically nil."

"Maybe in your case, but not in mine," Peter asserted. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go and get ready for my grand appearance."

Shaking her head, Nicky made her way to the merchandise table that had been moved from the foyer into the main room. Fortunately, the crowned had thinned out considerably. Unfortunately, that meant that Yana, who was helping man the merchandise table with two of her friends, saw her coming. "Here comes Nerd Nicky," she said behind her hand but loud enough for Nicky to hear.

"I may be a nerd, but at least I can read." Nicky flipped a sign around. "It says "please no food or drink while handling merchandise" so you should really tell your friends to get rid of that gum."

"You going to tell on us, Miss Goody Two Shoes?" One of the girls sneered.

"She doesn't have to. You're both fired." DeWitt Tompkins stood beside Nicky and glared at his daughter. "You'll have to finish this out alone." He picked up a copy of his latest book and signed it. He slipped it into Nicky's bag. "On the house."

Ecstatic, Nicky started back to her seat. On the way, she sensed that she was being watched. When she looked around, she caught Peter staring at her. _He doesn't look happy._ She shivered and walked faster, getting to the front of the room just as the foghorn blared and the author tapped the microphone. "We'll be beginning our presentations in a few minutes, just as soon as we've packed up the merchandise and moved the table back out to the foyer." She fished her essay out of her bag but as she placed it on the lectern her gut warned her to take it back. She picked it up and sat in the front row, watching as five other people, including Peter, set their entries down.

"Changed your mind? Scared of the competition?" Peter mocked.

"Not at all." As soon as she saw DeWitt Tompkins approaching, Nicky stood up and put her paper in place. She then retreated to the third row back. There was no telling how the other potential collaborators had interpreted the competition brief. No way did she want to get anything on her before she performed.

"Thank you for your patience, everyone. We had a slight hiccup with a couple of our volunteers during the break, which meant that packing up took slightly longer than normal." DeWitt did a quick count. "It looks like we have six entrants. I'll check later that all the essays conform to the "plus or minus fifteen percent" rule. Right now, I'll proceed under the assumption that they're all legitimate. I'll also be timing your performances to make sure they fall within the same parameters."

Nicky made some quick mental calculations. _That's eight and a half to eleven and a half minutes. I'm right within that. I'll be fine._ She watched as the essays were picked up and shuffled and one was randomly selected.

"Our first appearance will be by Peter Corgain."

 _Great! I hope something happens to wipe that smirk of his face,_ Nicky thought vindictively. She looked to where his helmet lay on the ground. _I hope that, whatever it is, it involves his bike. Take out a death trap and a sleaze. Sounds perfect!_ As she listened her disdain grew. _I bet this guy's never even read one of Tompkins' books. His books are about courage and inventiveness, not violence and bloodshed._

No more than halfway through, Nicky's prayers were answered. A movement to her left distracted her and she turned around. Yana and her two friends were standing at the window, looking out. They chattered excitedly amongst themselves. Then Yana pirouetted around and screamed out, "Who here knows why there's a police car turning into the Library's parking lot? Which one of you is a wanted criminal?"


	29. Chapter 29

**A/N:** There may be a little bit of "suspension of disbelief" needed for this chapter. I'm not sure. I did a bit of research and it seems logical to me, but…I could be wrong.

 **A/N:** The rest of this story will definitely posted before Christmas!

* * *

"Everybody stay calm!" Mason held out her hands. "Chances are it's someone I work with. I'll go and find out what's happening, see if I can smooth out any misunderstandings." Rebuffing Peter's attempts to follow her, she strode out into the foyer. "Jamie! I can't believe I'm finally seeing you in real clothes!" Mason closed the door to the meeting room behind her. "What are you doing here?"

"My niece is doing a presentation and I'm here to support her. Is she through there?"

"There's one way to find out." Mason cackled when Jamie couldn't open the door. "As you can see, I'm the one in charge here, I'm the one asking the questions. Put your hands up and turn around, slowly." Jamie obeyed and was horrified, but not surprised, to see a gun trained on his forehead.

"Empty your pockets onto the table, then take your clothes off, slowly. I want to make sure you're not carrying." Once she was satisfied, she let him get dressed again. "Be patient and behave yourself and nobody gets hurt. You'll have your way after I have mine. Ring your brother. Get him down here. Ten minutes."

"Mason?" With his hands raised, Jamie took a step backwards.

"Take another step and your brother's girlfriend dies."

"Who?"

"Let me guess. You don't know. Well, let me tell you." Mason's nostrils flared and she huffed loudly. But still the gun didn't move a millimeter. "You brother is having an affair. Actually, he's having two. One's with a blonde about his own age. She doesn't interest me. But the other one is much younger. Barely legal, I'd say. Brown cropped hair. And she's in there." She nodded at the table that he'd put his phone on. "Ring. Now."

"Hey! We're locked in here!" Multiple hands banged on the locked door so hard it vibrated on its hinges. "Let us out!"

"And if I don't?" Jamie focused on Mason's demand. The hostages would have to wait if they were to have any chance of getting out alive.

"Can anybody hear me? Someone's locked us in!"

"Shut up!" Mason yelled to the unseen nuisance. "Any more noise. anything smashing or breaking, this guy dies, and you can take your chances dodging bullets!"

In the inner room, everything that Nicky had ever learnt from the cops in her family kicked in. She surveyed the room for possible escape options. She quickly rejected the windows. Breaking them would make too much noise and they were much higher than they were wide. Even if they could get the glass out with a minimum of noise, the hostages would only be able to escape one at a time. It was too much of a risk that Mason would come back in and discover them mid-escape. She also rejected the Returned Items chute. It would be too noisy, and take them too long, to move the large metal bin that housed items the patrons brought back after hours.

"Everyone listen up!" She kept her voice as low as possible while still being heard. When she got no answer, she focused on her fellow captives. Most of them were sitting against the wall with their foreheads on their knees and their hands on the back of their heads. DeWitt Tompkins had gone one better. He had crawled under the book display table, turned his back on the door, curled himself up into a fetal position, and started sucking his thumb. Peter Corgain stood right up against the door with his ear pressed up against it. Nicky approached him, thinking that he'd be the safest person to help her implement her plan. As she walked up beside him, she heard him talking.

"She better not be blabbing. If she tells that cop who I am, I'll kill her!"

Exasperated, Nicky started to tiptoe away _. Not gonna get any help from him._ As she did, she saw his eyes and shivered. He had the eyes of a man who could order a thousand people to burn at the stake and not lose a moment's sleep while they screamed. _I hope we haven't had one madman lock us in here with another!_

"Nicky!" Yana gripped her wrist, startling her slightly. "These adults are obviously useless. If I can pick the lock of the double doors that lead into the main area of the library, we can escape that way," she whispered.

"One problem. At the end of each workday, furniture and book trolleys are stacked away to facilitate cleaning. Those doors may very well be blocked on the other side." Nicky looked through the keyhole of their possible escape route. "Yep, blocked!"

Yana inspected the outer edges. "I can't see the hinge. Which means that either they swing away from us, or, if we're lucky, it's a two-way hinge and will swing toward us as well as away from us."

"So you pick the lock, then we pull one of them toward us and see what happens."

"And the door rattles, the madwoman hears, she shoots, and Peter dies." Yana threw her hands up, either in mockery of the plan, disgust at how the adults were acting, or for fear of her life. Nicky guessed at it being a mixture of all three.

Nicky moved to the window. She only saw one cop car, and it was empty. _No help there. It looks like we're going to have to save ourselves._

"Wait a minute." Nicky swivelled and watched in confusion as Yana disappeared into the adjoining kitchenette for a couple of minutes and came back smiling.

"If all the hinges around here are the same, they're plastic with plastic screws." She held up a large sharp knife and a broom. "We need two extension cords and a penknife."

Nicky started raiding all the bags and boxes in the room. _If anyone complains, I'll tell them to take it up with my mother._ She grinned at the thought of the resulting altercation. "Here."

Yana got down on her knees and viewed everything laid out before her. She went through a mental checklist and ticked the items off. Satisfied she had it all, she picked up one extension cord, inspected it closely, put it down, and picked up the other one. She inspected it, wrapped it softly around the knife and marked it. Unwinding it, she asked Nicky for the penknife. She carefully cut the cord at the marked point, throwing away the piece that had the socket on it. She then peeled the plastic casing off and threw it on the ground. She wound the exposed wires around the knife blade, tucking both ends in so it wouldn't unravel, and plugged the two extension cords together.

"Plug the uncut cord into the wall, then the cut cord into the uncut one. When the power is turned on, the knife will be electrified. I can use it to try and cut through the hinges."

"Try?" Nicky asked nervously."

"I read something similar in one of Dad's books, and it sounded logical to me. But you know fiction, it's hardly gospel. We've got to try something, though, right?"

"Right. How are you going to attach the knife to the broom handle?"

"Damn!"

A few tense seconds past before Nicky snapped her fingers. She ran into the kitchen and picked up her bag on the way back. "Here." She gave Yana a roll of duct tape and a wooden ruler. "What?" she said when she saw Yana's curiosity. "I'm a girl Scout." She helped Yana place the ruler and the broomstick against the knife handle and tape them all together. She then handed over a pair of thick rubber gloves, and cut a third one into two inch strips. "Put these on while I tape these over the join and the knife handle. It'll protect against electrocution."

Yana held one end against her hip and reached as far forward as she could with the other hand. Experimentally, she moved the whole contraption up and down, and grinned when it held steady.

"Get ready to plug it in." She manoeuvred the knife until it was in the crack between the right hand door and its frame, then slid it down until it stopped. She nodded to Nicky, waited until she smelt burning plastic, and gently pressed down. After a few minutes of agonisingly slow movement, the knife jerked down as it had nothing more to cut.

Luckily, Nicky was there to catch it. "We'll need to be on our knees for the lower one." Both girls knelt and finally both hinges were melted through. Nicky unplugged the cord and Yana ecstatically threw the broom handle down, which stirred Peter out of his stupor.

"What are you two doing?"

"We're doing what you useless adults aren't. Getting us out of here," Yana hissed. Nicky stepped in before she did Peter irreparable damage.

"And we could really use your help." Yana looked confused so she explained. "Once you pick the lock, the door is going to have nothing to hold it in place. It's going to fall. That happens, we could die." She leaned her head toward the foyer, reminding them of the seriousness of the situation.

"I doubt I can hold it alone," Peter warned them.

Yana marched over to the book display table, crawled under it, grabbed her father by the hair, and slapped him. "Get yourself together," she whispered forcefully. "We need your help to get us out alive." She dragged him out into the open, forced him to stand up and marched him over to Peter and Nicky. "You two hold the door while I pick the lock."

"Where did you learn to do that?" DeWitt looked at his daughter suspiciously. Nicky, Peter, and Yana froze at his high pitched loud squawk. "Hush!" his daughter rebuked him. "Do you want us all dead?"

When they were fairly certain Mason wasn't going to suddenly appear,

Peter beckoned DeWitt over, and showed him exactly how to brace himself. "Okay, Yana. Do your stuff."

"Wait. When the door's free, the stuff behind might shift, possibly even fall. You'll need to keep your weight against the door while moving slightly sideways so we can see through to the other side."

Peter and DeWitt nodded.

Yana produced two paper clips, both bent into odd shapes. Less than a minute later, the door was free. "Slowly now."

When the gap was a few inches wide, the girls peeked through and discussed what they saw. "It's not too bad, just one big table with a couple of chairs in front of it. Under the table are a couple of boxes that look like they're full of books. They might be hard to shift, but the bean bags won't."

"I'm smaller. I'll go first," Yana volunteered. She crawled through the opening, pushing two child sized bean bags ahead of her. When she reached a box, she turned left and squeezed through the chair legs. Eventually she was able to stand up and begin to clear a path for Nicky. Once they were both out they cautiously and quietly cleared an escape path.

While Peter was gathering up all the other hostages, Yana and Nicky discussed their strategy. When everyone was free and huddled together, Nicky explained what needed to happen. "I'll crawl to the end of that aisle." She pointed to a pair of shelves in front of them. "That'll be the most dangerous part of our escape, because she might be able to see us. When I raise my arm, the first person will join me, keeping as low as possible. When the coast is clear, you'll get behind the staff counter as fast as possible, still keeping as low as possible, of course. Everybody understand?" Receiving only nods in response, Nicky crouched down and crept to her post. One by one, the hostages joined her, then, at her signal, ran for refuge. When everyone was in the staff area, Nicky released her breath. _Thank goodness she's too preoccupied to worry about us!_

"Everyone stay here." This time Nicky was prepared for Yana's disappearance. She reappeared in less than a minute. "I've unlocked the door."

With a final admonition to lay low and be quiet, Nicky ran for it. Yana gave her enough time to get outside, then took each person out to her. When everyone was assembled, the girls led them down the back of the building to the front.

"You keep them here behind the building. I'll go for help." Yana nodded.

Nicky looked around and saw movement in the cop car, so she ran over to it and rapped on the window.

"Yes, miss? How can I help you?"

Nicky simply pointed to the corner of the building where the rest of the hostages were hiding. "We've just escaped a lunatic."


	30. Chapter 30

**A/N:** Thanks to those who are continuing to review -hugs-

 **A/N2:** Warnings for a mention of gore at the end of this chapter.

* * *

Mason's gun aimed straight at Jamie's head. "If you don't do as I say, then all the people in there die. _Ring your brother."_

 _What is it with all these women wanting Danny?_ With that passing thought, whether curious or jealous he didn't know, Jamie sniggered.

"You think this is funny?" Mason took a step forward. "You think death is funny? Mass murder is funny?"

"Of course not!" Jamie reached for his phone, but jerked his hand back when Mason took a menacing step forward. "What? You told me to ring Danny! You insisted!"

"Sorry," Mason apologised. "You startled me. Carry on. Slowly."

The unhurried pace at which Jamie picked up his phone belied the speediness of his thoughts. _How can I warn him? Can't call him Daniel. Too obvious. Hey, bro? Too normal._ "Hello, brother of mine. I need you to come down to the Information Station, right now! It's the library on King Street. I can't get my car to start." _At least, this bit's true,_ he consoled himself. I can't get my car to start if I'm not in it. _The rest I'll have to take to Confession._

"I said to her 'If you don't start, I can't do my job, which means I won't get paid, and that'll hurt my family'. I pleaded with her not to do that to me. 'Please don't hurt my family,' I said. 'Please don't hurt my family'. But she wouldn't listen, so I need you to get down here within ten minutes if I've got any chance of saving my next pay packet. Just come straight to the front door. I'll be waiting for you." He slammed the phone shut and slowly placed it back onto the table. "He's coming. Ten minutes, just like you said. So what happens in the meantime?"

"We wait." The gun shifted downwards. "Sit. On the floor, legs apart, hands behind your head." She followed his movements so that the gun was always pointing at a vital part of his anatomy. When he was seated in front of the men's toilet door facing the main library area, she moved back until she was leaning against the wall that gave her the best vantage point of the outside world.

"Mason?" Jamie tried reasoning with her again, but his captor would have nothing of it.

"Shut up! This is not my fault! Don't you dare blame me!"

 _So whose fault is it then?_ Jamie's eyebrows rose.

"It's all your brother's fault! He knew that what he did wouldn't stay a secret forever. And he still threw you to the dogs! And for what? Nothing! That's what! Nothing! He needed to be stopped. He needed to be taught a lesson in respecting you, in treating you right."

 _She's crazy!_ _And I'm putting Danny in danger again._ Jamie swallowed the bile that flooded his mouth. He considered whether his next words would be helpful or detrimental. He decided to risk it. _Anything to keep her talking._ "Yeah, it was pretty awful. What did you hear?"

"It doesn't matter what I heard," Mason stated icily. "What matters is that all I wanted was for you to be free of that evil brother of yours! And he's got away with treating you wrong for far too long. But not anymore. Today he will pay, one way or the other."

"So let me pay." Danny froze outside the door with his hands up. "I'm the one you want. Let him go. Take me."

"Nah, that'd be too easy," Mason sneered. "Strip down so I can be sure to get all your weapons." When one of Danny's guns was in her hand and pointing to his head, and the other one, plus the contents of all his pockets, were on the ground, she allowed him to put his clothes on and step inside. "How did you get here? I know you're not cleared to drive yet."

"I came with a friend. He's waiting outside for us to come back so we can fix Jamie's car."

"See that cop over there? Call him over. He needs to arrange for you to be live on air on Three Chairs Radio within the next five minutes. And he's going to hook his radio up to a megaphone so I and everyone around us can hear your interview. You'll use my phone to call in, so you'll need a phone number, too. Tell them to text it to me." She read out the number of one of the NYPD's cellphones. "Loud voices, no whispers. I want to hear it all. Do it now."

Danny waved furiously. "Paz! Here! Now!" When they were face to face, he gave his orders. "Nod when it's done. Less than five minutes or people die." He faced his brother's captor again. "What's next?"

Mason pulled a notebook out of her jacket pocket. "I've been carrying this around ever since Jamie got suspended. It's a statement for you to read out loud to all of New York City and whoever else is listening in around the world. Uh uh," she cautioned as Danny took a couple of steps toward her. "I'll give it to you when you're on air. That way, you can't rehearse. And just remember, I've got it memorised. One word out of place and your brother dies. Get back by the door."

As Danny shuffled backwards, he came to the same conclusion Jamie had. _She's nuts!_

When he got the nod from Paz, he nodded to Mason, who slid the notebook and the phone over to him.

"First two pages. Ring the number."

After two rings, the call was answered and promptly transferred through to the studio when he identified himself.

"My name is Daniel Reagan. I am employed by the New York Police Department as a Detective, First Grade. Earlier this year, I betrayed my own brother and fellow NYPD cop, Officer Jamison Reagan." His eyes roamed ahead and he stuttered as he realised what he was about to admit. "I I I portrayed him as mentally ill. I made his superiors and workmates believe he was unfit to be a cop. Worse than that, I made them believe he was a danger to them and the public he served so diligently, effortlessly, and impeccably. I deprived the NYPD of its finest officer. I made New York City a more dangerous place for her unsuspecting and innocent citizens." He licked his lips. "I discredited him, not only within the NYPD, but within society as well. I knew that, through no fault of his own, he would become the subject of malicious gossip, and the object of unwarranted prejudice. I admit to trying to have my brother, Officer Reagan, lose his job and be committed to psychiatric care, knowing it would make him the laughingstock of the NYPD and our family. I did this for no reason at all, except for my own selfishness and jealousy." He turned to face Jamie, hoping to convince him that his next statement came from his heart as well Mason's statement. "Jamison Reagan is a far superior police officer, grandson, son, brother, and uncle than I am or will ever be." He looked away, his stomach knotting in anticipation of what was coming. He hoped his sons would understand and forgive him. "My wife Linda will be better off single than with a cheating philanderer like me for a husband. My sons, Jack and Sean, will be better off with Jamie as their father. Goodbye." He dropped the phone on the floor. When he looked up, neither gun had moved. One was still pointed at Jamie, and the other pointed at him.

"On your knees."

"Mason, listen to me," Jamie pleaded. "You did all this for me, didn't you?"

"He needs to die," Mason stated, making Jamie more terrified than he'd been all day. "That's why I tried to kill him. That bomb was for you, Jamie, my darling. I was only trying to protect you."

"I know, and I'm very grateful for it."

"How grateful? Grateful enough to come away with me?"

"Maybe." Jamie hoped the gamble he was about to play paid off. "What's in it for me?"

"If you do, I'll let your brother's girlfriend go."

"The "much younger, barely legal, brown cropped hair" one? Yeah, that seems like a good deal. But you have to let him go, too." He put as much venom in his tone as he could. "We'll be safe. He doesn't care about me. Anyway, you're right. He's completely incompetent. He couldn't find his way out of a paper bag if he had a compass and road signs."

Mason nodded. "Open the door." As Jamie did, she shifted the gun that was pointed at Jamie away to cover the inner room. "Where are my hostages!?" she screamed. As she did, the other gun moved slightly.

Danny sprinted forward and karate chopped her arm. The gun clattered to the floor. Her arm was bent behind her back. Her knees collapsed beneath her as strong hands drove her down. Jamie divested her of the second gun.

"You were here first. Your collar." Danny waited until Jamie had control of the prisoner before he stepped back. He picked up Mason's phone and clicked "End". "Reckon there really were hostages?"

"I saw people through the window from outside."

"Okay. I'll have a look around." Danny took the gun that was on the floor and disappeared into the other room.

"But you promised we could start a new life together!" Mason screeched in outrage. "He's completely evil! You said so yourself!"

"See, the thing is, Mason, I'm not the kind of person you think I am, or want me to be. I never have been, never will be, don't even want to try. Anyway, did you honestly think I'd choose you over my own family, you stupid woman?" Jamie pushed Mason out the door. "Move!"

"Why won't you listen to me?" Mason kicked Jamie in the shins and shook her head violently around. Her voice rose. "You'd rather listen to your dead mother and brother than listen to me! That's right, I've heard you. They abandoned you years ago, yet you'd rather spend time with them than me! Maybe I should have killed you. Then you could have joined them since you enjoy their company so much more than mine! Yes, that's it," she murmured to herself. "You should die. You deserve to die. You all deserve to die!"

"Shut up and keep walking!" Jamie pushed Mason over the threshold of the door, temporarily letting go of her.

"Look out!"

Instinctively, Jamie dove to the ground, reaching out to pull Mason down with him. But he was too late. Her head fell to the asphalt.


	31. Chapter 31

**A/N:** I'm pretty sure you will be confused at the end of this chapter. But please hang tight. The last 2 chapters will be up in the next couple of days, and hopefully they will answer your questions!

 **A/N2:** Warning for more gore as Mason's fate is explained.

* * *

Danny dove to a crouch behind the check-in desk and spun around when he heard breaking glass in the direction he'd just come from. _What the hell was that?_

He pulled out his gun and aimed it back in the direction he'd just come from, the place he'd left Jamie with a mad gunwoman. Certain there were no people left inside, he crept at a run toward the open back door, keeping his gun trained on the front door. Once he was outside, he sped around the perimeter to the front door.

He slowed down when he realised the troublemaker was already in handcuffs, but he could still hear insane yelling. "Nobody outsmarts Song Bayliss! Not Keith Elbourne, not Adeline Hanson, and certainly not some wannabe who held me captive and threatened my life!"

"What do you know about Keith Elbourne and Adeline Hanson?" Thanks to his Grandma Betty, Danny could lip read as Mac stopped and moved into the prisoner's personal space.  
"I know that sometimes I think God created that woman to destroy my life," the prisoner spat. "I know Tompkins liked their work better than mine. _He_ thought Elbourne's artwork was better than mine, and Adeline's character description and resume was more comprehensive than mine, whatever that means! But I know the truth! Adeline Hanson is really Trixie Bukman. She copied me! Pretending to be someone else is my gig. Then she tops it off with a kidnapping? If I'd let them live, one of them would have won. Nobody beats Song Bayliss, you hear me? Nobody! I'm the next DeWitt Tompkins character. Not them, not her."  
"Who's DeWitt Tompkins?"

"That'd be me." Another man stuck his arm up so high Danny could see it from his vantage point. "And I've never met this man before today. As foe Keith Elbourne and Adeline Hanson. I've never even heard of them."

Danny shook his head, trying to will the pain of yet another headache away. Confident that Mac had the situation under control, he holstered his gun and focused on his brother. He sprinted over. A few feet away he stopped, horrified. Jamie was standing facing him, statue like, covered in blood. Mason's body lay at his side, but her head was at least three feet away.

"Jamie? Jamie, walk over this way, bud. That's it, over here." He kept coaxing his brother until he could hear what Jamie was mumbling. "I couldn't save her. Tried. Couldn't save her. Just like Vinnie. Too late."

 _Oh, crap! This is not good. "_ We need help over here!" Danny bellowed. He looked around frantically. _My brother's going into shock. He could pass out and die right in front of me._ Sometimes Danny hated being married to an emergency nurse. It taught him far too much about the consequences of trauma, and not nearly enough to be able to relieve them. "We need a doctor!" he screamed. He sat Jamie down and pushed his head between his knees. "Deep breaths. Deep breaths."

Suddenly, Danny was unceremoniously shoved out of the way by a paramedic. She placed an oxygen mask over Jamie's face and felt for his pulse. Then she took his blood pressure and placed a pulse oximeter on his finger.

"I do not need to go to hospital!" Jamie protested weakly.

"I beg to differ." Danny reached out but Jamie evaded his touch, attempting to struggle to his feet. It took the efforts of both Danny and the paramedic, and a threat of sedation, to get him sitting down again. After checking that Jamie was as comfortable as he could possibly be on the hard ground, Danny rose and pulled the paramedic aside.

"Carol? Is there any way he can change his clothes?" He explained the Vinny situation.

"If we move slowly, he should be able to be moved to the ambulance soon. At the moment., they're being moved to make way for the fire trucks. Once I've got the okay, we'll take him there, and I'm sure there'll be something for him to change into." As she finished packing up the equipment, she got the call. She and Danny helped Jamie up and Danny kept up a running commentary as they walked.

"So I've got a much younger, barely legal girlfriend with brown cropped hair, huh? How come I'm always the last person to know these things? When do I get to meet her?"

"You already have." Jamie looked to where he could see Nicky running towards them.

Danny followed his brother's gaze. "Nicky? Oh!" He let out an expletive. "I forgot she was going to be here today. Why on earth would Mason think she was my girlfriend?"

"Because she saw us together in the hospital and she's got a dirty mind, that's why." Nicky saw the blood splashed all over Jamie's clothes. "Uncle Jamie! What happened?"

Jamie sat down in the back of the ambulance and his voice was muffled as he peeled off his shirt. "Please tell me you weren't one of the hostages."

"We managed to get out and find help. We were taken to the carpark until we could get checked out by the paramedics. But after Peter threw that boomerang at Mason, they herded us away to the minimart just around the corner. Were you the one bringing her out?" Not needing an answer to grasp the truth, she sat down beside Jamie and enveloped him in a hug. "I didn't even realise it was you out there. I'm so sorry. Can we go home now?"

Carol shook her head as she passed Jamie a jacket. "I want Jamie to get checked out at the hospital first."

"I do not need to go to hospital!" Jamie protested again. "I'm with Nicky. I'll fill out any forms you want, MIA, PDF, I'll sign them all. I just want to go home."

Carol swallowed to hide her amusement. "The form you want is LAMA, Left Against Medical Advice. I can get it for you if you're sure."

"I've just got one question. How exactly are you going to get home?" Danny stood in front of his brother and crossed his arms.

Jamie glared and then slumped in defeat. The choice was clear: Let the ambulance take you, or I'll take you myself. And he definitely didn't want to face the consequences of making that choice.

"You were involved in this, too?" Carol asked Nicky. The teen nodded. "Then you'll need come with us, too." She turned to Danny. "And you'll have to come with us. We're not allowed to transport a minor without an uninjured guardian present."

Danny stepped forward and hugged her. It was good to know someone cared enough to bend the rules a little to keep his family together. Carol settled Jamie onto the stretcher, then Danny and Nicky climbed in and sat in the seats behind the driver.

"Unfortunately, I have to stay in the back with my patient." Carol adjusted the monitor showing Jamie's readings so she could see it easier. Then she spoke into her radio. "Ready to go, Joe."

"Wait a second! What about your car, Uncle Danny?"

"I got dropped off."

Jamie's heart sank. "You didn't tell anybody what you suspected? And by anybody, I mean Dad. Man, are we going to get in trouble!"

Danny's phone rang. He glanced at the Caller ID and pressed "Ignore".

"You do realise you can't avoid him forever." Jamie smirked.

"You do realise you should be resting?" Danny shot back. "By the way. that was a creative use of the Reagan family danger phrase," he commended.

"I'm just glad you got the message." Jamie leant backwards and contemplated Nicky. "Since I've got a leisurely ride to the hospital in which to rest, why don't you tell us what happened in there? I'd swear in court on the Bible that there were people in that back room when I first arrived. But by the time Mason let me open the door, it was empty. What gives?"

Nicky opened her mouth to protest her ignorance, then thought better of it. "Like I said before, we managed to get out and find help. It got a bit scary, when Peter started threatening Mason, though. But it turned out okay."

Danny muted his phone when it began ringing again. "Who's Peter? One of the attendees?"

"He's the man who killed Mason."

"But he called himself Song Bayliss," Danny contradicted her.

"One of them must be a falsie. Song Bayliss was also the name he was using om the precinct. He's been working in for the last few months. Not a very nice guy. Pretty much anyone he brings in for questioning gets pushed around and yelled at." Jamie paused. "Now that I think about it, he's been around about as long as Mason has." That brought to mind another question." Nicky, did you say that Mason was killed with a boomerang?" Jamie rolled onto his side, and Carol only just managed to get a container beneath his chin before he vomited.

In order to give him something else to think about, Nicky capitulated and told them how she and Yana had facilitated their escape.

"So that's why the fire brigade was called."

"Yeah." By the time she'd finished they'd arrived at the hospital. She and Jamie were taken into a cubicle that had two beds in it, separated by a curtain. Danny was banished to the waiting room where he gave in to the inevitable.

"Hi, Dad."

"Did you cut my last call off?"

Danny put his head in his hand, trying to stave off another headache. "We're at the hospital." He quickly gave Frank a scant outline of the day's events, knowing full well they'd get the third degree later on anyway. "Jamie and Nicky are being treated for shock. We need someone to come and get us, though."

"Pop or Baker?"

"Better make it Pop. Have you heard from Erin?"

"No. Have you?"

Danny rubbed his forehead. _I need a painkiller and fast._ "No, nor Linda either. We'll come to yours, they'll find us there eventually."

"See you soon, then. And get some pills for that headache."

"Sure." Danny put his phone away and made his way up to the desk to charm a nurse into taking pity on him.

Three hours later they were home. Pop had arrived while Mac was getting his statement and Eddie was taking Nicky's. A little while later, Jamie had reappeared with a clean bill of health and prescriptions painkillers and sleeping pills, should he need to take them. Mac took him aside to talk while Pop went to the nearest pharmacy to get the medicines.

Seeking refuge before the inevitable barrage of questions from his father and sister, Jamie grabbed a beer and retreated to the back porch. A few minutes later, Danny came out, too. Sitting against the wall by Jamie, he clinked their drinks together.

"Great minds think alike."

"Small minds seldom differ," Jamie finished the familiar quote for him.

"You okay?"

Jamie aimlessly circled his finger around the top of the can. "I got you in danger again."

"What do you mean "again"? When was the last time?"

"The bombing. The only reason you were there was because I was in a funk and you knew it and you were trying to make me feel better because you're still trying to convince me how much I mean to you because I hadn't told you that I know how much I mean to you even though I've known for months that you love me." Jamie sucked in a deep cleansing breath.

Danny scratched his head, trying to make sense of his brother's gabbling. He failed, so he started with the last thing he'd heard. "You're right. I do love you." He moved to sit cross legged, facing Jamie, and grasped his biceps. When Jamie refused to look at him, he tipped Jamie's chin up with one hand, holding him steady with the other. "What's more, I like you." He pulled Jamie into a tight bear hug, knocking both of the drinks over. "I'm glad you know how much you mean to me," he whispered. He drew back and started lecturing. "I thought I was the one with the gigantic ego in this family! You need to listen up and listen good. I wasn't at the pub that day out of pity. I wasn't there to make you feel better, or to prove anything to you. I was there because I wanted to be there. I was there to have lunch with you, plain and simple. Nothing more. Nothing less. So you need to stop beating yourself up, right now. Understand?"

From his refuge in the shadows, Frank beamed with pride as he listened to his oldest son.

 _Maybe now life can start to get back to normal._

He wasn't sure whether his thought was a hope or a prayer. _Probably both,_ he decided as he watched Danny and Jamie contentedly.

 **A/N:** I'm pretty sure you will be confused at the end of this chapter. But please hang tight. The last 2 chapters will be up in the next couple of days, and hopefully they will answer your questions!

 **A/N2:** Warning for more gore as Mason's fate is explained.

Danny dove to a crouch behind the check-in desk and spun around when he heard breaking glass in the direction he'd just come from. _What the hell was that?_

He pulled out his gun and aimed it back in the direction he'd just come from, the place he'd left Jamie with a mad gunwoman. Certain there were no people left inside, he crept at a run toward the open back door, keeping his gun trained on the front door. Once he was outside, he sped around the perimeter to the front door.

He slowed down when he realised the troublemaker was already in handcuffs, but he could still hear insane yelling. "Nobody outsmarts Song Bayliss! Not Keith Elbourne, not Adeline Hanson, and certainly not some wannabe who held me captive and threatened my life!"

"What do you know about Keith Elbourne and Adeline Hanson?" Thanks to his Grandma Betty, Danny could lip read as Mac stopped and moved into the prisoner's personal space.  
"I know that sometimes I think God created that woman to destroy my life," the prisoner spat. "I know Tompkins liked their work better than mine. _He_ thought Elbourne's artwork was better than mine, and Adeline's character description and resume was more comprehensive than mine, whatever that means! But I know the truth! Adeline Hanson is really Trixie Bukman. She copied me! Pretending to be someone else is my gig. Then she tops it off with a kidnapping? If I'd let them live, one of them would have won. Nobody beats Song Bayliss, you hear me? Nobody! I'm the next DeWitt Tompkins character. Not them, not her."  
"Who's DeWitt Tompkins?"

"That'd be me." Another man stuck his arm up so high Danny could see it from his vantage point. "And I've never met this man before today. As foe Keith Elbourne and Adeline Hanson. I've never even heard of them."

Danny shook his head, trying to will the pain of yet another headache away. Confident that Mac had the situation under control, he holstered his gun and focused on his brother. He sprinted over. A few feet away he stopped, horrified. Jamie was standing facing him, statue like, covered in blood. Mason's body lay at his side, but her head was at least three feet away.

"Jamie? Jamie, walk over this way, bud. That's it, over here." He kept coaxing his brother until he could hear what Jamie was mumbling. "I couldn't save her. Tried. Couldn't save her. Just like Vinnie. Too late."

 _Oh, crap! This is not good. "_ We need help over here!" Danny bellowed. He looked around frantically. _My brother's going into shock. He could pass out and die right in front of me._ Sometimes Danny hated being married to an emergency nurse. It taught him far too much about the consequences of trauma, and not nearly enough to be able to relieve them. "We need a doctor!" he screamed. He sat Jamie down and pushed his head between his knees. "Deep breaths. Deep breaths."

Suddenly, Danny was unceremoniously shoved out of the way by a paramedic. She placed an oxygen mask over Jamie's face and felt for his pulse. Then she took his blood pressure and placed a pulse oximeter on his finger.

"I do not need to go to hospital!" Jamie protested weakly.

"I beg to differ." Danny reached out but Jamie evaded his touch, attempting to struggle to his feet. It took the efforts of both Danny and the paramedic, and a threat of sedation, to get him sitting down again. After checking that Jamie was as comfortable as he could possibly be on the hard ground, Danny rose and pulled the paramedic aside.

"Carol? Is there any way he can change his clothes?" He explained the Vinny situation.

"If we move slowly, he should be able to be moved to the ambulance soon. At the moment., they're being moved to make way for the fire trucks. Once I've got the okay, we'll take him there, and I'm sure there'll be something for him to change into." As she finished packing up the equipment, she got the call. She and Danny helped Jamie up and Danny kept up a running commentary as they walked.

"So I've got a much younger, barely legal girlfriend with brown cropped hair, huh? How come I'm always the last person to know these things? When do I get to meet her?"

"You already have." Jamie looked to where he could see Nicky running towards them.

Danny followed his brother's gaze. "Nicky? Oh!" He let out an expletive. "I forgot she was going to be here today. Why on earth would Mason think she was my girlfriend?"

"Because she saw us together in the hospital and she's got a dirty mind, that's why." Nicky saw the blood splashed all over Jamie's clothes. "Uncle Jamie! What happened?"

Jamie sat down in the back of the ambulance and his voice was muffled as he peeled off his shirt. "Please tell me you weren't one of the hostages."

"We managed to get out and find help. We were taken to the carpark until we could get checked out by the paramedics. But after Peter threw that boomerang at Mason, they herded us away to the minimart just around the corner. Were you the one bringing her out?" Not needing an answer to grasp the truth, she sat down beside Jamie and enveloped him in a hug. "I didn't even realise it was you out there. I'm so sorry. Can we go home now?"

Carol shook her head as she passed Jamie a jacket. "I want Jamie to get checked out at the hospital first."

"I do not need to go to hospital!" Jamie protested again. "I'm with Nicky. I'll fill out any forms you want, MIA, PDF, I'll sign them all. I just want to go home."

Carol swallowed to hide her amusement. "The form you want is LAMA, Left Against Medical Advice. I can get it for you if you're sure."

"I've just got one question. How exactly are you going to get home?" Danny stood in front of his brother and crossed his arms.

Jamie glared and then slumped in defeat. The choice was clear: Let the ambulance take you, or I'll take you myself. And he definitely didn't want to face the consequences of making that choice.

"You were involved in this, too?" Carol asked Nicky. The teen nodded. "Then you'll need come with us, too." She turned to Danny. "And you'll have to come with us. We're not allowed to transport a minor without an uninjured guardian present."

Danny stepped forward and hugged her. It was good to know someone cared enough to bend the rules a little to keep his family together. Carol settled Jamie onto the stretcher, then Danny and Nicky climbed in and sat in the seats behind the driver.

"Unfortunately, I have to stay in the back with my patient." Carol adjusted the monitor showing Jamie's readings so she could see it easier. Then she spoke into her radio. "Ready to go, Joe."

"Wait a second! What about your car, Uncle Danny?"

"I got dropped off."

Jamie's heart sank. "You didn't tell anybody what you suspected? And by anybody, I mean Dad. Man, are we going to get in trouble!"

Danny's phone rang. He glanced at the Caller ID and pressed "Ignore".

"You do realise you can't avoid him forever." Jamie smirked.

"You do realise you should be resting?" Danny shot back. "By the way. that was a creative use of the Reagan family danger phrase," he commended.

"I'm just glad you got the message." Jamie leant backwards and contemplated Nicky. "Since I've got a leisurely ride to the hospital in which to rest, why don't you tell us what happened in there? I'd swear in court on the Bible that there were people in that back room when I first arrived. But by the time Mason let me open the door, it was empty. What gives?"

Nicky opened her mouth to protest her ignorance, then thought better of it. "Like I said before, we managed to get out and find help. It got a bit scary, when Peter started threatening Mason, though. But it turned out okay."

Danny muted his phone when it began ringing again. "Who's Peter? One of the attendees?"

"He's the man who killed Mason."

"But he called himself Song Bayliss," Danny contradicted her.

"One of them must be a falsie. Song Bayliss was also the name he was using om the precinct. He's been working in for the last few months. Not a very nice guy. Pretty much anyone he brings in for questioning gets pushed around and yelled at." Jamie paused. "Now that I think about it, he's been around about as long as Mason has." That brought to mind another question." Nicky, did you say that Mason was killed with a boomerang?" Jamie rolled onto his side, and Carol only just managed to get a container beneath his chin before he vomited.

In order to give him something else to think about, Nicky capitulated and told them how she and Yana had facilitated their escape.

"So that's why the fire brigade was called."

"Yeah." By the time she'd finished they'd arrived at the hospital. She and Jamie were taken into a cubicle that had two beds in it, separated by a curtain. Danny was banished to the waiting room where he gave in to the inevitable.

"Hi, Dad."

"Did you cut my last call off?"

Danny put his head in his hand, trying to stave off another headache. "We're at the hospital." He quickly gave Frank a scant outline of the day's events, knowing full well they'd get the third degree later on anyway. "Jamie and Nicky are being treated for shock. We need someone to come and get us, though."

"Pop or Baker?"

"Better make it Pop. Have you heard from Erin?"

"No. Have you?"

Danny rubbed his forehead. _I need a painkiller and fast._ "No, nor Linda either. We'll come to yours, they'll find us there eventually."

"See you soon, then. And get some pills for that headache."

"Sure." Danny put his phone away and made his way up to the desk to charm a nurse into taking pity on him.

Three hours later they were home. Pop had arrived while Mac was getting his statement and Eddie was taking Nicky's. A little while later, Jamie had reappeared with a clean bill of health and prescriptions painkillers and sleeping pills, should he need to take them. Mac took him aside to talk while Pop went to the nearest pharmacy to get the medicines.

Seeking refuge before the inevitable barrage of questions from his father and sister, Jamie grabbed a beer and retreated to the back porch. A few minutes later, Danny came out, too. Sitting against the wall by Jamie, he clinked their drinks together.

"Great minds think alike."

"Small minds seldom differ," Jamie finished the familiar quote for him.

"You okay?"

Jamie aimlessly circled his finger around the top of the can. "I got you in danger again."

"What do you mean "again"? When was the last time?"

"The bombing. The only reason you were there was because I was in a funk and you knew it and you were trying to make me feel better because you're still trying to convince me how much I mean to you because I hadn't told you that I know how much I mean to you even though I've known for months that you love me." Jamie sucked in a deep cleansing breath.

Danny scratched his head, trying to make sense of his brother's gabbling. He failed, so he started with the last thing he'd heard. "You're right. I do love you." He moved to sit cross legged, facing Jamie, and grasped his biceps. When Jamie refused to look at him, he tipped Jamie's chin up with one hand, holding him steady with the other. "What's more, I like you." He pulled Jamie into a tight bear hug, knocking both of the drinks over. "I'm glad you know how much you mean to me," he whispered. He drew back and started lecturing. "I thought I was the one with the gigantic ego in this family! You need to listen up and listen good. I wasn't at the pub that day out of pity. I wasn't there to make you feel better, or to prove anything to you. I was there because I wanted to be there. I was there to have lunch with you, plain and simple. Nothing more. Nothing less. So you need to stop beating yourself up, right now. Understand?"

From his refuge in the shadows, Frank beamed with pride as he listened to his oldest son.

 _Maybe now life can start to get back to normal._

He wasn't sure whether his thought was a hope or a prayer. _Probably both,_ he decided as he watched Danny and Jamie contentedly.


	32. Chapter 32

**A/N:** I'm so glad you loved the Danny-Jamie interaction, Here's more!

From inside the front door of Frank's home, Mac surveyed the gathered Reagans and drew Frank aside. "Are you sure you want the kids in on this?"

Schooling his face to feign innocence, Frank replied. "Of course! Danny, Erin, and Jamie need to know what you know."

"I wasn't talking about your kids, and you know it."

"Then I suggest you ask their parents, not me."

Mac bit his tongue in order to keep it in his mouth and moved on to Danny, where he repeated the same question.

"Absolutely!" Danny insisted. "Jack and Sean have lived through this from the beginning, just like the rest of us. They deserve to be here at the end, and all their questions answered."

"Are you sure you don't want to hear me out first and talk to them later? Then you can pick and choose what they get to know."

"My sons are twelve and fourteen years old. They are grown up enough to hear what you have to say," Danny maintained.

"Alright, just as long as you're sure." Mac, Frank and Danny entered the kitchen where Henry, Erin, Linda, and the children were waiting. Frank quickly made the introductions so that everyone knew each other. As everyone settled themselves around the dining table, Erin poured Mac a coffee and offered him a biscuit. He declined.

"Hi, everyone. I know you usually attend morning Mass, and you've changed to attending afternoon Mass so you can meet with me today. I'll be as brief as I can, but please interrupt me at any time if you have questions." Mac glanced at his notes. "Let's start with the easy one. If she were still alive, there would be enough evidence to charge Mason Dunnery with the bombing at the Shiny Penguin. At the very least, she'd have been accused of attempted murder, numerous counts of injuring with intent to cause grievous bodily harm, malicious property damage, and endangering public safety."

"And from the evidence I've seen, the jury wouldn't have had to deliberate five minutes before they'd have convicted her," Erin stated.

"Do you know why she tried to kill Dad?" Sean reached for another cookie.

"I'll take that one," Danny volunteered. He turned to his sons. "Before we went to Quogue this summer, I laid an official complaint against Uncle Jamie and got him suspended from work."

"Is that why he got really angry with you?"

Danny nodded. "Yes, Sean, it was, and he had every reason to be. But that's a conversation for another day. Mason Dunnery thought I was a danger to Uncle Jamie and made it her mission to protect him."

"So she was trying to do the right thing by doing the wrong thing." Sean reached for a third cookie, but jerked his hand back to avoid his mother smacking his hand.

"Exactly, but the good news is we believe she worked alone. At any rate, we haven't found any evidence to suggest she had any accomplices." Mac grinned at everyone's sighs of relief.

"What about that smell I reported?" Danny wanted to know.

"Ah, yes. The infamous smell. We impounded Mason's car, and it reeked. When Adam analysed the trace that was collected from it, he found remnants of a broken perfume bottle, and a chemical analysis was consistent with Magniloquence, the eau de parfum that Mason herself admitted she was wearing on the day she visited you. We also confiscated a bottle of the cologne that Tony Renzulli was wearing that day. It was Fred's Fourteen, and not a match to the trace in Mason's car, or to Magniloquence."

"Why 'infamous'?" Jamie scratched behind his ear.

"Because it led directly to you being kidnapped. Mason wore it. Danny reported it. Dino decided not to report it further as requested. Frank hauled him over the coals for his decision. Dino's female companion overheard the censure and took exception to it. So she decided to kidnap you."

"She hoped that Danny would come to Jamie's rescue and be killed in the firefight." Frank had read that in the incident report and it still scared him witless. To think that someone would be willing to kill two people just because they were doing their jobs was unconscionable. That those two people were his sons was beyond horrifying.

"The woman who kidnapped you-"

"The one I knew as Trixie Bukman, but that Mason identified as Adeline Hanson, the real estate agent?" Jamie clarified.

"That's the one. Her real name is Trixie Bukman. Adeline Hanson is the name she uses professionally. Bear with me, because here's where it gets a little confusing," Mac warned.

"Get's?" Henry snorted.

"She _did_ have an accomplice. Jamie, you met him at the bar, too."

"Alistair Bukman? Let me guess. That's not his name either."

"Actually, yes it is. He works in the same office as Adeline Hanson, but under the name Rhys Parr. They're cousins and con artists, but that's another story for another time. On the day of the bombing, Trixie panicked when Jamie asked her for her name. She was supposed to give out their professional names, but in the heat of the moment she blurted out their real names. I presume Jamie seeing her at the hospital was so she could ascertain whether he remembered her or not. When she realised that he did, that's probably when she went into damage control mode. The situation with Dino Arbogast gave her the perfect opportunity." Reaching forward, Mac poured himself another coffee. "As far we can gather, Trixie took exception to Frank threatening Dino's job. I presume she figured that going after the Police Commissioner would be nigh on impossible, so she went after the next best person to blame for Dino's predicament- Danny."

"Because Uncle Danny tattled on him," Nicky guessed.

"Uh ha," Mac agreed. "Mason was a client of the real estate agent Adeline Hanson, which is how Adeline got hold of the chocolates. Alistair stole a policeman's outfit for her, so it was easy for her to sneak into the precinct building, pick the lock on Mason's bottom drawer and steal the music box. Voice samples proved that Trixie slash Adeline and Alistair are the one who rang Mason and pretended to be Eddie and Sergeant Mollie."

"So how did I get overpowered?" Jamie drummed his fingers on the table top.

Mac grimaced. "It took longer than it should have to figure that one out since you didn't go to hospital. Thankfully for us, the team found traces of your blood on the shackles. When it was analysed we found a strong sedative. We believe than when you were bending over the drug addict, Alistair injected you in the back of the neck. We found his fingerprints on a syringe in the bathroom."

"So the doctors got it wrong again?" Sean said contemptuously.

"The paramedics? No, they didn't get anything wrong," Mac assured him. "Jamie told them he had been hit, he presented with all the symptoms of a physical assault, and he was well enough to be sent home, so he was. Jamie, we also found your skin cells in Alistair's car, which would indicate that he drove you to the house. We also found biological evidence linking Alistair both to recording equipment we found stashed at their residence and to the evidence that was delivered to Danny and the Lab."

"How come the neighbour didn't see him? I thought they were the busybody type," Erin commented.

"He was out all morning. He was asked to visit his doctor urgently."

"Let me guess, the doctor has no knowledge of the request," Linda guessed.

Mac grinned.

"We believe that after Alistair delivered Jamie to the house he left and recorded everything remotely. That's how he was able to deliver the evidence undetected."

"You're saying they organised all this in just a couple of days, including deciding to use Mason as a patsy?" Frank whistled.

"Actually, according to papers we found in her home, Mason was going to buy the house, all cash. She took pictures of the interior, but interestingly, none of the secret passage. I doubt she even knew about it. When I was interviewing her, I asked her why she was so interested in a house with such prominent mould and water leakage issues. She said, and I quote "I have no idea what you're talking about. That house is in pristine condition." The paperwork at the real estate agency listed the property at one price. The paperwork that Mason had priced it hundreds of thousands of dollars higher. You do the math."

"Seems to me, that Mason turned from a potential con victim to an actual kidnap suspect." To Frank's amazement and pride, Danny sounded somewhat sympathetic toward the woman, despite the fact that she'd tried to kill him.

"That's what we're thinking," Mac agreed. "Alistair was also identified by the florist as the one who chose the flower arrangement and dictated the message on the card that young Mr Elbourne delivered to the hospital."

"Elbourne? I remember seeing that name on the name tag that the boy we found was wearing." Sean's hair stood on end just thinking about it. "Are you talking about him? What's he got to do with it all?"

"And how is he?" Erin enquired. "I tried to get find out from the hospital, but all they'd say is that they'd pass my contact information onto the family. I haven't heard anything back from them. Do you know anything?"

Mac smiled sadly at the question. "Unfortunately, he died a few hours after he was brought into the hospital. His parents are arriving later on today. I'll make sure they have your details." Eager to finish what he had to say and get out of there, he turned back to Sean. "He delivered a bunch of flowers to your Dad in the hospital and some photos and a DVD to our Lab, that's all. He was an innocent victim of circumstance and of an extreme narcissist in Song Bayliss, AKA one Mr Peter Corgain."

"That nutjob was willing to anything and everything to win that prize." Nicky shook her head. "I hope I never get that self-absorbed."

"To sum up, Alistair Bukman is being charged with kidnapping, unlawful surveillance, unlawful possession of a restricted drug, illegal practice of medicine, and aiding and abetting a kidnapping, as well as threatening to kill as regards the bunch of flowers and the threatening note he sent you in the hospital." He stopped when he saw the looks of abashment on Jamie and Danny's faces, fury on the faces of the other adults, and concern and fear on the children's. "I put my foot in it, didn't I?"

"No, they did," Frank corrected him. "Please continue."

"Song Bayliss is being charged with the murders of Trixie Bukman AKA Adeline Hanson, Emmet Keith Elbourne and Mason Dunnery. Also, carrying a concealed weapon, and impersonating a police officer. Any more questions? What about you, Jack?" Mac eyed the teenager, who'd not uttered a word since the introductions had been made.

"You didn't say anything about what happened in the library."

"If she were still alive, Mason would be being charged with multiple counts of false imprisonment and threatening to kill. For what she forced your father to say over the radio, she'd be charged with coercing a false confession and using the airwaves to incite violence, since she had a reasonable expectation that someone would seek revenge on him for his what he said."

"You didn't believe me, did you?" Danny held his breath.

"Of course not! I knew you were lying. I always know when you're lying. You have a tell." Jack tapped the side of his nose and smirked.

"Cheeky brat!" Danny muttered.

"Any more questions?"

"Just one." Suddenly serious, Jack stood up, put his palms on the table and leaned in toward Mac. "Are we safe now?"

"Until the next time I piss someone off." Danny motioned for his elder son to sit back down, an order which Jack reluctantly obeyed.

"Which means for about the next thirty seconds," Jamie quipped.

Frank huffed and addressed his sons. "We'll continue this discussion later." He stood up. "Mac, do you mind if I catch a ride with you? I have to stop by the office before Mass."

Mac his goodbyes to the family and as he and Frank walked out, Frank called back," I'll grab some lunch in town and meet you guys at the church."

After lunch, everyone went their separate ways to get ready for Mass.

"Mum! I can't get my tie right!" Sean wailed.

"Come down to the hall mirror and I'll help you," Linda called. A few seconds later, Jack and Sean came clattering down the stairs.

As she was straightening his tie, Linda scrutinised her younger son. "Sean, are you okay?"

"Just thinking about what Detective Taylor said."

"And?"

"So, Mason tried to kill Daddy because she thought she was in love with Uncle Jamie?" Sean jiggled as Linda rubbed some lint of his shoulders that only she could see.

Unsure where this was going, Linda decided to answer truthfully but tread carefully. Sean was her baby after all. She didn't want to traumatise him any more than was necessary. "Yeah."

"And that woman kidnapped Uncle Jamie because she was in love with Mr. Arbogast?"

"Yeah."

"And that boy was killed because he wanted to impress a girl?"

Linda nodded.

"I'm never falling in love. It's too dangerous!"

"I agree with you there, buddy." Jamie took his nephew's place. "Does anybody have any idea why we have to wear our uniforms today?"

Linda picked up the keys as Erin and Nicky joined them. "Not a clue. But you should wear them more often. You both look adorable."

"I know I'm adorable." Danny screwed up his nose. "Screw adorable. I want to drive!"


	33. Chapter 33

**A/N:** I hope you all had a marvellous Christmas and New Year season. Thanks to every person who read, alerted and favourited this story. Special thanks to everyone who took time to review. Your support and encouragement has been the finishing of the tale -hugs-

 **A/N2:** Here is the ending to this story. It was actually one of the first parts that I wrote. But within some minor editing, it became the perfect final chapter.

* * *

"I'd like to invite the Police Commissioner up to finish out the service for us. Commissioner?" Father Markhum stepped aside to give Frank access to the microphone.

"Thank you, Father. We have spent the last hour thanking God that the events of the last week weren't more devastating. But one of our fellow parishioners has someone else she wishes to thank today." He nodded toward the front row.

Jamie leaned forward to see who was going to stand up from the other end of his pew. When he saw who it was, he gasped and a grin split his face from ear to ear.

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Wanda Shortland and Officer Jamison Reagan, is my hero. Before I heard his voice, I was sure I was going to die.

I'd not long got out of rehab after losing my leg. One of my goals was to reintegrate myself back into as much of my old life as possible. I'd gone to the Shiny Penguin that day for lunch because I figured it wasn't as popular as others since it wasn't in the center of town. Boy, was I wrong! I ended up sitting at the bar, which made me even more self-conscious than I already was since every person who walked through the door would see me, and people at the bar kept talking to me. I was coming to the end of my meal and getting ready to leave when the place exploded. I must have blacked out, I have no idea long for. I woke up, dazed and confused. I tried to get up but my arms wouldn't move. I tried calling out many times but I never got an answer. Not until I heard him call out for survivors.

"In here!" I yelled, on the edge of hysteria by now. "I'm stuck!"

"Keep talking and I'll find you," he instructed me calmly. He was always so calm. When I admitted I didn't know what to say, he chuckled, which

very quickly became a coughing fit. Hearing him struggle to get his breathing under control, I panicked.

"Hey, Mister! Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he croaked out, sounding like an asthmatic frog. "Are you hurt?"

I assured him I had only minor injuries, no neck or back pain. Then he asked me if I was experiencing breathing problems, which I found rather ironic because the place was on fire. Of course I was having breathing problems!

The next question was whether I could feel my arms and legs. When he heard I had a prosthetic leg, he asked me why I couldn't just unclip it.

"It's a little bit more technical than that." My voice sounded very harsh to me due to a combination of smoke inhalation and fear, I guess. "I need two hands free to remove it. One of my arms is currently pinned under a slab of something heavy and I'm lying on the other one. But I desperately want to get out of here. Plastic and fire don't really mix. I'd rather not be melted to the floor." Don't judge me, I know it sounds like a stupid thing to say. But I was new to being a cripple, and I was still getting used to my prosthetic. In my terror all I could think was plastic plus fire equals melting.

By following the sound of my voice, Jamie found me. He introduced himself as Officer Reagan. I could hardly see him through the shirt he had tied over his face. The first thing he did was pull it off and rip it in half. Even then, all I could see were his eyes. He helped me wrap half of his shirt around my head. It was only then that I realised it was wet, which made my breathing easier."

As Wanda started to wobble, Frank came to her side and whispered a few words. Gesturing to Garrett, he waited until a chair was brought to him. He helped Wanda to sit down and adjust he microphone. When she was ready, he stepped back and she continued.

"Over the next few minutes he listened to me chattering as he used everything he could find – hands, broken bits of wood, sharp metal shards – to free me. I told him some useful stuff, like my name (Wanda, like the movie) and occupation (currently none), and some stuff he probably didn't really want to know, such as my singing prowess (atrocious!).

Finally, he pulled the last of the slab, now smashed to smithereens, off my arm. He gently felt it, checking for injuries. It must have been fine because he started untangling the other one. When it was finally free, I would have hugged him I could have. Unfortunately, he told me to lay it across my chest since it could be broken." She waved her casted limb. "As you can see, it is.

As Jamie helped me to sit up, I asked if he was alright. He insisted he was fine, even though I could tell he was finding it hard to talk.

But when I looked at the broken bits of whatever it was my arm had been buried under I gasped and couldn't stop myself from asking one more question. "What was it?".

"Could've been anything," Jamie answered. "Bits of table, chair, bar. Maybe even that ugly statue that greeted me with the sadistic grin when I arrived."

I heartily concurred. That statue was gross!

I went to stand up because walking is faster than crawling, but Jamie pulled me down again and I tumbled into his lap. He apologised and said he didn't mean to do it, that he had forgotten all about my leg, which was

the nicest thing anybody's ever said to me in a long time. I moved until I was sitting on the floor closest to the door and tried to lead the way. But I had to stop when the smoke and smell, to say nothing of the rubble, disoriented me.

When he realised what was wrong, Jamie quickly manoeuvred past me and allowed me to follow him.

As we crawled over unidentifiable detritus and twisted around unimaginably tight angles, I finally heard voices. I protested when Jamie told me to stop a minute so he could figure out if the voices were coming from inside or outside.

"What's the difference? Voices are voices," I challenged him. "I say we just go towards them."

Then he had the balls to sit in my path so I couldn't get past him as he chastised me. He said we could possibly get ourselves further inside the building and closer to the fire, only to find that the people we heard are injured too. He said we needed to be still and listen. We were heading for the back door so if the voices were in the direction we were going, we'd head for them. If not, we'd yell.

I had to admit it did sound like a good plan, though I hoped we didn't have to yell. I was pretty sure nobody would hear us, since at that point our yells would be more like whispers.

So the two of us sat in silence waiting to hear the voices again, but we didn't, so Jamie urged us to keep on going.

By now, the air was getting worse. Breathing was getting harder by the second, my eyes were starting to get painfully dry, and moving was like wading through waist-deep molasses when you were on your hands and knees. But Jamie kept on encouraging me, telling me to "Come on, this way," and "It's not too far now." He also said to trust him. When he started crawling again, I followed him. If I'd known what he was planning, I probably wouldn't have, though. When our way was blocked by a large piece of wood that didn't move I started to believe that this dangerous building was in danger of becoming our crypt, our final resting place.

"How are we supposed to move that?" I croaked, now sounding myself like an asthmatic frog.

He stood and pulled us both up to standing. I yanked my arm out of his grasp and crouched back down again. "Are you nuts? Do you want to asphyxiate to death?" I growled.

"I don't want to die, period," he said. "But if we don't get this thing out of the way, we will. Your choice."

I shot him a disgusted look and slowly and painfully got up again.

Following his direction, the obstruction was finally moved enough for us to squeeze past. Thankfully we crouched down again where the air was marginally clearer. From there it was a relatively quick slither to the wall.

"Stay here." Without waiting for an answer or to see if I'd done as I was told, Jamie left me alone.

I must have blacked out again because the next thing I knew he was shouting my name in my ear.

"Whaa?" I slurred, turning toward the intruding noise.

I felt him shake me again, but it was no use. My voice and my body had given out. He lifted me over his shoulder, but must have realised that there wasn't enough room for him to carry me. The next thing I knew, I was breathing God's clean air, with Jamie's belt and trousers looped it around my armpits. I looked up and saw only Jamie's chin, and it was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen! I was later told that he'd dragged me through the rubble. He must have had to stop numerous times to shift debris that he banged into, or that snagged our clothes and stopped our progress. Since that day, I've seen a floor plan of the pub. He must have dragged me nearly a hundred yards, including corners, which would have been especially difficult since I was a dead weight. He also would have had to lift the both of us over the step at the base of the door and slide us over loose gravel to get us clear of the danger zone.

I don't remember any of it, until I heard someone call out "Over here! We have two more survivors!"

I was overjoyed to hear those words. It was over, but I was still taking my lead from Jamie. It was only when I felt Jamie relax that I finally let myself go."

By now, Wanda couldn't see through the tears that were flowing down her cheeks. She pulled out a handkerchief, wiped her face and blew her nose. When she had settled herself, she looked straight at Jamie.

"Officer Reagan, you saved my life. I'd really like it if you came up here and got what I couldn't give you that day."

Seated by Jamie, Nicky gave him a push. "You heard the lady!"

The church erupted in a cacophony of catcalls, whistles, and shouts of encouragement. Watching Jamie make his way up onto the stage, Frank caught his eye. _Uh oh. If looks could kill, I'd be dead. I hope I survive through to our family dinner tonight._ He grinned, hoping Jamie would interpret it as support and not self deprecating humor.

When Jamie got to Wanda he paused awkwardly. She had no such inhibitions, however. She flung her arms around his neck and pulled him down. "Thank you doesn't seem to be enough. I didn't say this out loud because it's nobody else's business. But the real reason I came there that day was to get drunk enough to kill myself. God sent me there that day. He used you to save my life."

Jamie straightened up and squeezed her hand. He was about to return to his seat when his father's voice stopped him. "Officer Reagan, I have one more presentation before you sit down." Swallowing heavily, he started to read from the paper on the lectern in front of him. "On Monday the 11th of August 2016, Officer Jamison Reagan saved the life of Wanda Shortland and other members of the public who were trapped in a bombed building. In doing so, he intelligently performed an act of outstanding personal bravery in the line of duty at imminent personal hazard to his life under circumstances which showed a disregard of personal consequences. Therefore, it is my great honor and pleasure to award to him th Medal For Valor."

As he pinned the medal on his son and shook Jamie's hand proudly, he heard the audience erupt once again, this time adding a standing ovation to their noise, leaving Jamie in no doubt as to their feelings.

In the front row, Danny was on his feet, applauding more fiercely and hollering louder than anyone else. He looked at his sons and for the first time in a long time, he felt satisfied he'd leave the world in safer hands than his.

Then he collapsed.

* * *

 **A/N3:** If RL doesn't get in the way, I hope to start posting the sequel within the next couple of months.


	34. Chapter 34

Hi All,

Thanks to jlmayer for PMing me and enquiring about the sequel to In Blood Is our Legacy. That PM prompted me to remember to post this message:

I was definitely intending to start posting the sequel within a couple of months of the last update. Unfortunately, my body decided different. Since the middle of January, I have been admitted to hospital three times, had two operations, and been in both resus (emergency department critical care) and convalescent care. I actually just got home yesterday and I'm slowly going to pick up my normal routines, as I still tire easily. I'm now intending to write the sequel during Camp NaNoWriMo in April.

I hope you all bear with me as I catch up with everything.

Cheers,

Karen -hugs-


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